On Broken Wings
by XFauxAfflictionX
Summary: Folken Fanel is a very broken man when he comes to Asturia seeking asylum. He unexpectedly finds trust in Asturia's own Princess, Eries Aston. As a diplomat for Asturia, she has taken it upon herself to learn more about him, and both of them get more than they bargained for. This story takes place between episodes 23-26 of the series Vision of Escaflowne. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**On Broken Wings**

Chapter One

The sun was intensely shining the day Folken Fanel came to Asturia. Princess Eries Aston had been in the drawing room with her sister when she heard the commotion. Men ran by the door, yelling to each other as they briskly headed to the throne room, but it was Millerna who had gone to the door first. Eries' curiosity was usually subdued by her calm demeanor. She didn't let excitement get to her. When others panicked and ran about, she was able to remain calm and observe everything—the events causing the panic, the reaction of those it affected, the atmosphere that it created… everything. It was something she prided herself on. It was probably one of the reasons her father respected her so, despite her retraction of her right to succession. She had kept a level head, even when he became angry, reasoning her way through her arguments. He had been angry for several days, that was unavoidable. But he had come to her, accepting her arguments and transferring the right of succession to Millerna.

"Dryden?" Millerna called, stepping into the hallway. Dryden paused, wrapping a hand beneath Millerna's outstretched arm and resting it on her elbow. Eries knew that the marriage had been against Millerna's wishes. That Dryden was against her wishes. But Millerna was trying, and it constantly reminded Eries why she had refused the throne and refused to accept marriage proposals. Despite her obvious feelings for Allen, Millerna cared about Dryden, and that complicated the relationship—she didn't love him, didn't want to be with him. But he was good to her, good _for_ her, and thus, she didn't want to hurt him. Stuck in an endless spiral of emotions. Stuck, wanting what she wanted, getting nothing of the sort, and all the while trying to make everyone around her happy. Eries felt a twinge of guilt for having forced this upon her younger sister.

"Millerna," Dryden said with a smile. Eries appreciated that, even though _something_ was urgent, he took the time to pause and address his wife.

"What's this commotion?" Millerna asked.

"It seems Zaibach's Strategos has defected," Dryden said calmly.

" _What?!_ " Millerna gasped, placing her hand over her heart. Eries rose from her chair, placing her tea on a side table and flattening out her dresses. She approached slowly, Dryden bowing his head as she did.

"Yes," Dryden replied. "And what's more, he has requested asylum here in Asturia."

Anxiety welled in Eries' mind. Could it be a trap? Was he attempting to spy on Asturia for Zaibach? Was he simply trying to get inside their high walls, and compromise them from within?

"Do you trust that it is no ruse?" Eries asked calmly. Millerna and Dryden both turned to look at her. "This could be a trap—if he attempts to infiltrate us."

"Yes, my thoughts exactly, Princess," Dryden said. "That's why an emergency session has been called. We're going to meet with him, try to gauge his intentions…"

"He's here?" Millerna asked.

"He is about to be," Dryden said. "A scout reported he is being escorted by Van Fanel."

"We will leave you to it, then," Eries said, more to Millerna than Dryden. Millerna took a step back, nodding dutifully.

"Can I go with you?" Millerna asked.

"My humblest apologies, miladies, but this council meeting is barred to all but council members. Besides, if he is attempting to overthrow us from within, I want you nowhere near it," Dryden said smoothly, resting a hand on Millerna's shoulder.

Millerna blushed, looking away.

"Don't think they would have anything to say about it if you wanted to escort me there, though," Dryden said with a coy wink at Millerna. For all Millerna's reservations, Dryden matched them with equal charm—no doubt determined to make her fall for him. It was noble and admirable, but Eries knew beyond a doubt that he would never sway her heart.

"I wouldn't mind that," Millerna said, looking to Eries for her opinion. Millerna rarely heeded it, but she often asked for it anyway.

"I don't see why not," she said with a weak smile.

Dryden nodded, picking up stride again. Millerna walked at his side, Eries following slightly behind him. He had offered her an arm, but she declined. It would have been harmless, but she had decided a long time ago to refuse any advances, no matter how innocent. Besides, she felt more powerful when she arrived unescorted. It commanded a level of mystery and respect that arriving on a man's arm simply did not.

Members of the council flooded the hallways, running or speed-walking to the council chamber. Dryden alone remained at a calm walk. Eries appreciated this about Dryden—his laid-back nature was kindred to hers. He was confident in his lack of control over the situation, and as such, didn't bother becoming worked-up about it.

"This is where I leave you," Dryden said as they approached the towering doors, taking Millerna's hand and kissing it.

"Keep us updated on this, please," Eries said with a curtsey.

"I will," Dryden said, pushing his glasses up his nose and turning to the chamber.

"Come, Millerna, let us not be here when they arrive," Eries said simply, turning down the perpendicular hallway. "If it is a trap, members of the royal family must remain. I will have the servants bring us a fresh batch of tea."

As they turned to walk the long way round, Eries caught sight of the escort approaching.

It included Van, Allen, and three other guards. They all seemed tense, as if they all felt the same fear she did. And it was warranted. The man known as Strategos Folken was an intimidating figure.

He walked surrounded by the escort, but the power clearly rested with him. He towered over every man around him—all except Allen, whom he was eye-to-eye with. He wore a long black cape wrapped about him, and his stride was clearly stunted as he followed at their pace, not his. He kept his head bowed, his blue-white hair falling down over his shoulders and over his eyes. He bore a strange teardrop mark on his right cheek below his eye, and he was… strikingly handsome. Eries felt herself stir uncomfortably. He was fearsome, true, but… there was something about him…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Folken Fanel could feel the anger and distrust radiating from his brother like sunlight. Van was stiff as he walked down the long hall, his hand permanently resting on his sword. The girl from the Mystic Moon had worked hard to convince Van to give Folken a chance with the Asturian council, but it was clear Van was not convinced. He conceded to let the council hear him, but obviously expected a trap.

Folken himself wasn't even sure what he was doing. He had fled Zaibach in his rage following Naria's and Eriya's deaths. He had been upset, yes, but it was Emperor Dornkirk's flippant attitude regarding their sacrifice that had sent him over the edge.

The Emperor barely regarded their deaths, and when Folken had confronted him about it, Dornkirk had treated them like just another statistic on his way to an ideal future. Just another tick in a list of thousands that had died in the name of _his ideal_ , and he refused to even recognize it as a loss. Folken hadn't planned to abandon Zaibach. He had felt, and to some extent, still felt he owed his life to them. But he had seen red when he abandoned the Floating Fortress in Eriya's guymelef. He had planned to return to Zaibach—to allow himself to calm in the course of his flight there.

Instead he found himself in the rubble of Fanelia, unsure of how he got there, or why. He had been driven by his anger, his regret regarding his role in Naria and Eriya's deaths. And when he considered getting back into the melef and flying to Zaibach, he had felt great disgust and disillusionment. He had always believed in the Emperor's plans for an ideal future—believed that if he made it happen, his brother would live in a Gaea free from war, free from pain.

Folken was pulled from his thoughts as Allen cleared his throat.

"They will require that you remove your sword and cloak," he said flatly.

Folken's heart nearly leapt into his throat with dread. He was sure it crossed his features, because Allen furrowed his brow in confusion. Van stood, peering toward the chamber doors in cold passivity.

Folken took a deep breath, unsnapping the cloak at his neck. He let it fall open, but instead of removing it, he removed the sword first, drawing it from the sheath awkwardly with his left hand. The guards around him tensed as he handed it slowly to Allen.

Folken paused before removing the cloak, trying to take a deep breath and merely managing a shudder.

"Is this necessary?" he asked in a low whisper.

"The council will want to be assured you are not hiding any weapons," Allen said, something akin to pity in his voice.

"Make me do this, and you'll show them that _I am a weapon,_ " Folken growled through gritted teeth. The three guards tensed again, hearing the hostility in his voice.

"Just do it, Folken," Van said sharply. "I hardly think your arm will be the greatest concern to them."

Anger flared in Folken, his heart slamming against his chest. His brother's passive attitude had been expected, but his coldness wasn't. Folken took a measured breath, reaching to the cloak.

"Yes, but would you show mercy to a sheep baring wolf's fangs?" he said, finally pulling the cloak off. The metal of his arm gleamed in the light, and the three guards all took a step back.

Allen took the cloak from him, nodding solemnly. He seemed to understand, somehow.

Allen turned to make his way into the chamber, as did Van. Folken meant to follow. He told his legs to move, but his brain had other ideas. He remained, standing like a statue, staring at the council doors.

Van turned, his hand twitching on his sword. "Come, _brother._ It is rude to keep them waiting."

Folken looked down at the ground, raising his metal right hand slightly to peer down at it. The talon-like nature of his fingers triggered a thousand awful memories, and he shivered, sighing.

"Folken, just…" Van began to speak with anger, but Allen stayed him with a hand.

"Van, have some sympathy," Allen said calmly, taking a step to his left. A handmaiden stood there, having been walking by. "Miss, your drape."

The woman pulled an off-white shawl from her shoulder, handing it over. Her eyes kept flitting past Allen to look at Folken, like a spooked horse watches a serpent.

Allen handed it to him. "You will need to keep your person visible, as I said; they will want assurances… but you can use it to cover it."

Folken took it with his left hand, nodding genuinely. "Thank you, Allen Schezar."

Allen nodded as Folken quickly draped it over his right shoulder, letting it completely cover his right arm. He found that he was instantly able to relax. He had forgotten what it was like to be self-conscious of it. In Zaibach, he almost always covered it, and when it did show, it was around those who put it there. Now… he was begging asylum of a city that he had recently orchestrated an attack against. He was walking on eggshells already, and didn't need another reason for them to distrust him.

Allen turned, pulling the huge council chamber doors open. Folken found his confidence completely returned, and he strode in behind Allen, not bothering to see if Van followed. He knew his brother didn't believe that he had given up Zaibach, and knew there was little he could do to sway Van's mind.

Allen entered before Folken and approached the long table where the council sat, bowing.

"Lord Dryden Fassa, honored councilmen, I introduce Folken Lacour de Fanel, former crown prince of Fanelia, and Strategos of Zaibach," Allen said, stepping aside.

Folken could feel the armored guards at his sides, and they stood within striking distance. It was nerve-wracking, but it made sense. No doubt, they assumed he was attempting to turn spy.

"Councilmen, thank you for accepting me into your city," Folken said, his voice echoing in the deathly silent room. "I understand your skepticism. You don't understand my motivations. I am here t…"

"Pardon me, sir," one of the councilmen said with very little respect in his voice. By the epaulette on his shoulder; a Commander of Asturia's forces. "But you must see how we would assume you are here to turn spy."

A chorus of grunts in agreement erupted from the men around the table.

Folken nodded. "It did occur to me you would think that," Folken began anew. "But, while I am no longer a prince of Fanelia, spying is a ruffian's game. Spying is for the man with no honor."

"You abandoned your country to join Zaibach, how much honor are we to assume you have?" the same Commander chided in. The men around him retreated in their chairs, feeling the disrespect in the words. None, however, spoke up, as they all obviously wished to know the answer.

Rage boiled in Folken's chest, but he forced himself to take a measured breath.

"I did not abandon my country, _Commander_ ," Folken growled with as little aggression as he could muster. "I was mortally wounded on a…"

He paused, his voice catching. Every time he spoke of it, thought on it…

 _It felt like fire had been flushed through his veins. The dragon's strike had been lightning fast, and when Folken lunged, its massive jaws had clamped down on his shoulder. He could hear the bone as it popped and shattered, felt his very flesh ripping like paper…_

Folken shuddered, blinking the images away.

"A hunt," he finished, his voice unsteady. "Zaibach found me, took me in. They saved me with their science. I felt my life was a debt owed to them, and as such, I did not… _could not_ return to Fanelia. But I am not here to discuss that. I am here now, because I have become disenchanted with the Emperor's works. His vision is sound, and I still believe in it; do not think that I have no conviction. But… he values unimportant victories over human lives. And I've… I've come to you to ask asylum."

A few councilmen stirred. Their anxiety was clear—taking him in meant a world of risk. If Zaibach found out he was here, their wrath would fall entirely on Asturia. And even if Zaibach didn't find out, there was still the question of Folken's loyalties—if he really was a spy, and he could feed Zaibach damaging and damning information. Folken knew that they would need to mull over all of this, so he simply stood quietly.

"Asylum? Zaibach's strategos is asking _us_ for asylum?" another councilman said with disbelief. By his uniform, a Lieutenant.

"Emperor Dornkirk's insanity knows no bounds," another man chipped in, obviously firmly believing Folken was a spy.

"That's why you're requesting asylum?" another man said, his voice dripping with doubt.

The council began to murmur amongst themselves, becoming unruly for a moment.

"They're right," Lord Dryden Fassa said finally. The council quieted when he spoke, and Folken took mental note of it. _They respect him._

"This is too sudden," Fassa continued, lowering his head to peer over his glasses at Folken. He was obviously hoping to intimidate Folken through a steely gaze.

Folken had to keep from smiling. He had stared in the eyes of dragons, a mere man would have to try quite a bit harder.

"I come bearing gifts, of course," Folken said, returning Fassa's intensity tenfold.

The council perked up.

"In exchange for your asylum, I am prepared to provide you with information—military strategy, tactical plans, even Zaibach's advanced science. I can provide it all to you. As Emperor Dornkirk's protégé, I have been privy to Zaibach's most sensitive information… things only the Emperor himself knows."

He had known it would entice them, and it had. The men straightened, turning to look at each other in questioning. Eventually, they all looked to Dryden.

Dryden took a deep breath and sighed. He knew he had been played. Folken had used their desperation for any edge on Zaibach and dangled victory in front of them. Now their doubts were being weighed. _How badly do they want to be cautious?_

"You understand, of course, that we will have to adopt a grace period," Dryden said with a wave of his hand. "Guards, escorts, room-arrest. The works. Just because we acquiesce, doesn't mean we trust you."

"I wouldn't expect less," Folken said with a muted grin.

Dryden nodded, standing. The rest of the council stood. "We will have a room prepared in the castle…"

"At least three guards," Van's flat voice chimed in from the door.

Folken turned to find his brother leaning against the long oak door. "We both trained with Balgus as children. Anything less than three guards is easy pickings."

Folken grinned, turning back to Dryden. "If you feel it is necessary."

Van huffed, pushing from the door with a leg and exiting.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Princess Eries shivered as a breeze came in the drawing room window. She wasn't sure if it was the cool sea air, or the image of what she had seen.

She had paused for a moment in the adjacent hallway as the escort approached. She had no doubts they were unaware of her presence.

Folken had removed his cloak, a monstrous metal contraption residing where his right arm should have been. The limb was like a guymelef's; joints of shining metal and tubes connecting the pieces. The fingers were skeletal, talon-like claws.

Eries shivered again, rising from her chair to close the window.

"What's wrong, sister?" Millerna asked quietly, closing her book.

"Nothing," Eries replied, peering out at the gulls while she latched the window. Millerna hadn't seen what she had seen.

 _Folken Fanel. The missing crown prince of Fanelia._

Eries remembered him from when she was very young. King Aston had gone on a visitation of neighboring Fanelia, in good faith with their sovereignties. He had brought his wife and three daughters along, in the hopes of discussing future marriages for them. Marlene had been thirteen at the time, Eries eleven, and Millerna just six.

It had all been proper and respectable. The royal family of Fanelia had greeted them in the grand gardens of Fanelia's castle. Eries remembered how breathtakingly beautiful the Fanelian queen had been. Her eldest stood beside her in a strapping uniform, his blue-white hair styled short. He couldn't have been older than fourteen at the time. The Fanelian queen held her youngest in her arms, speaking to him in whispers now and then. Folken and Van Fanel.

The man she had seen today was little more than a whisper of that memory. He was cold and hard, and that metal arm…

Eries sighed, turning back to her sister. She found Dryden standing in the doorway.

"Oh, Dryden," Millerna said, standing. "So?" she asked curiously.

"He has indeed turned on Zaibach," Dryden said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "None of us really trust that it's true yet, least of all Van."

Dryden placed his glasses back on his nose, adopting his usual charm. "As royalty, he will not be jailed, but instead housed in the castle. King Aston has consented. I want you to…"

Dryden paused, sighing. "I want you _both_ to be cautious. His expertise in Zaibach's inner workings is invaluable to us. But… Van's reservations are also my reservations. He worries me. He is a very calculating, manipulative man. And while he may be completely genuine, I can't help but doubt him. Just… steer clear, okay?"

Dryden's concern for both of them was touching.

"Thank you, Dryden," Millerna said before Eries could. "We will."

"Good," he said, smiling at Millerna. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go discuss with my crew the implications of these… changes."

Both girls curtsied as Dryden exited.

Millerna turned to face Eries, questioning in her eyes. "What do you think?"

Eries shrugged. "I don't know. I have the same doubts as Dryden and, no doubt, the rest of the council. It's so sudden… and Van… if Van, his own brother doubts his intentions, then perhaps we should too."

"I wonder what Hitomi thinks…" Millerna wondered aloud.

"Ask her, if you wish, but no matter what she says… stay away from him. At least for the time being," Eries said, picking up her tea and finishing it. 

Despite telling her sister to steer clear of Folken Fanel, Eries decided to wander about the North Wing, where he would be quartered. She found it rather quickly, as it was obvious when she stumbled upon it; a room with three guards standing outside the door, and one at either end of the hallway.

"You shouldn't be here, miss," the guard at the end of the hall said.

"Oh?" she asked him with feigned shock. "I live here."

He nodded bashfully. "Yes, Princess, my apologies, but…"

"I realize he's here. He's just a man," she said, forcing her way past. She wanted to gauge for herself. She never took people's opinions on face value. Her mother had a horse when she was just a girl that none of them were allowed to ride or even pet. She was told it was mean-spirited, and had a habit of kicking. But Eries had snuck into the barn one morning, and found the beast sleeping. She tiptoed into its stall, lying down in the wood shavings and resting her head against the animal's stomach. It had leaned up, nuzzled her face with its peach-fuzz snout, and gone back to sleep. And after that, it was affectionate, loyal, and completely trustworthy. But she never would have known if she had let her mother tell her what to think of the poor animal.

Eries hadn't meant to speak to him, simply to observe. But as she approached the room, he exited, obviously to the shock of the guards. They pounced into action, following him closely. Eries distinctly noticed the white drape that fell over his right… arm.

Folken stopped in his tracks, undeterred by the guards around him. Up close, his handsomeness was more pronounced. His expression was harsh and unmoving, the teardrop tattoo on his right cheek giving his stern face an air of sadness. Both ears had been pierced with gold rings, which made his face even more angular. His eyes, however, betrayed his harshness; they were somehow relaxed and soft despite his expression and body language. And they were a deep shade of red that Eries had only ever seen in blood and wine.

"Princess Eries," Folken said flatly. He did not move to bow or take her hand. "You will forgive me if I do not bow. Neither of us has any right to the pleasantries of royalty anymore."

The statement was cold and disrespectful. She may have denied her right to the throne, but it didn't make her any less royal.

She brushed it off.

"Lord Folken," she replied, attempting to match his passivity.

Folken peered over his shoulder at the guards.

"Zaibach's fortresses provided very little room for walking. I've felt cramped for a very long time. I'm sure these boys wouldn't mind going for a stroll."

The guards stammered. "Lord Folken, you have been instructed to stay…"

"Then stop me," he said, a note of challenge in his voice. He turned back to Princess Eries. "Anywhere in particular in this fine city I should go?"

She wasn't quite sure why he was even bothering to ask her. He had disrespected her only moments ago. Dryden was right—it wasn't clear what game he was playing, but he was being manipulative. Of whom, she still wasn't sure.

"The docks," she said. "The ships are magnificent, as is the ocean. And, as the sun is about to set, you might be lucky enough to catch the green flare."

Folken didn't ask, but raised an eyebrow.

"Sometimes, when the sun sets over the ocean, there appears this brilliant but fleeting green flare just on the horizon. Blink, and you'll miss it, though," she said.

Folken stared back at her silently for so long that it became uncomfortable.

He finally nodded. "I shall have to avoid blinking, then," he said, and walked past her without another word. The guards looked panicked, but they followed.

Eries turned to watch him go. He was intriguing, to say the least. He seemed wholly uninterested in impressing anyone, but he was also extremely self-conscious of his right arm—hence why he kept it covered at all times.

Perplexed, Eries continued on to her room.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Princess Eries had been right—the docks were breathtaking. The ocean was a brilliant shade of blue-green, and the waves were not overly-large. It was just enough to create the relaxing, rhythmic crash that soothed Folken's mind.

He hadn't intended to be rude to her. But he found that he was on-guard and anxious in Asturia, always worrying how he would be perceived. Would they turn on him and cast him out? He had heard tell of Dornkirk's wrath once before, seen the misshapen aftermath that was a soldier who had failed him. Folken wasn't particularly worried about himself—there wasn't much more they could do to him that he wasn't prepared to tolerate. But… Asturia would take the brunt of Dornkirk's revenge. _Van_ would.

Folken sighed, stepping down the stone stairs from the docks to the beach. The three guards followed, always within several feet of him. Folken turned his face toward the setting sun, closing his eyes and simply letting the warmth bathe his skin. He breathed in deeply—taking in the scent of the ocean and the freedom its breeze brought in. He felt an almost painfully overwhelming urge to cast off his adornments and take flight out over the sea. Just ride the warm air currents until he couldn't anymore, and fall lightly into the waters below.

"You were told to stay in the castle." The voice was harsh, but familiar.

Folken sighed, slowly opening his eyes and turning to find Van. He looked perturbed.

"I couldn't, I'm sorry," he said, turning back to look out over the ocean. "Besides, I've got these strapping guards to escort me. Nothing bad could _possibly_ happen with the…"

"We both know you could have all three of them on their backs within seconds. Weapon or no weapon," Van interrupted, to which the guards looked at each other worriedly.

Folken took another deep breath. "You're angry at me, I understand that…"

"No, you will _never_ understand," Van snapped, his fists clenched and shaking at his sides. As Folken peered down at Van's trembling hand, he found someone crouching behind him.

"Is that you, Merle?" he asked softly.

She peeked out, looking up at him. The last he had seen her, she was just an adolescent, always following Van around at the heel. She had grown so beautifully, and her manner reminded him very much of Naria and Eriya.

"Hello, Lord Folken," she squeaked, obviously skittish.

Folken grinned gently, holding his left hand out toward her. "You know me, there's no reason to be afraid."

She straightened, walking out from behind Van and approaching him. She reached a hand up and laid it in his.

"It's good to see you again, Lord Folken," she said with a meek smile.

"It's good to see you too, Merle. You are truly beautiful," he said, his hand closing around hers. He ran his thumb gently through the fur on her wrist, and she smiled, a small purr escaping.

"That's enough, step away Merle," Van said angrily, and Merle immediately obeyed.

Folken sighed. "You will come to trust me again, brother," he said, looking out over the ocean once again.

"Yeah? Well it won't be soon. So why don't you return to the castle before I drag you there myself," Van said, his hand on his sword hilt.

Folken knew it was just Van's temper. It was quick to stir, and long to be settled. But these idle threats were not becoming of the heir of Fanelia.

Folken turned to his brother, taking a step toward him and casting him in shadow.

"Careful you don't make threats you can't fulfill, brother mine," he said, his voice sounding much darker than he had intended.

Van was actually surprised, and he took a step back.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'd _hate_ to put the people of Asturia on-edge, so I will retire. _As I've been told,_ " he said, making sure Van could hear that it was in no way because he had been told. "Goodnight, Merle."

"Goodnight, Lord Folken," she squeaked.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

After hours of merely lying in bed and staring at the vaulted ceiling, Folken decided to give up. He rose, donning his black tunic and trousers, grabbing the cask of wine that still sat on the desk. He poured a glass, sighing deep as he tossed his drape over his right arm and exited his room.

The hall was dim—only a single torch was lit, and a solitary guard stood beneath it, leaning against the wall, his eyes heavy. The young man leapt upright, his hand flying to his sword.

"Relax, boy. You've nothing to fear from me," Folken said calmly, crossing the hall and leaning against the open stone half wall to peer out over the sparkling city. "I'm just a restless man with little to do."

The guard did relax a bit, but probably didn't mean to outwardly show it. He stepped forward, obviously still determined to fulfill his duties of keeping Folken in check.

"What is your name, young man?" Folken asked, sipping his wine.

The boy considered for a moment, as if trying to decide if he wanted to indulge him with conversation. He had to be no older than twenty—a handsome lad whose eagerness to impress stood clearly in his features. Probably explained why he was stuck with the night watch.

"Aros, sir," the boy said. His voice was innocent and small—the voice of a man who hadn't done much screaming.

Folken nodded without looking at the boy.

"'Sir' is not necessary," he said, swirling his drink and watching the deep red ripples. "You may call me Folken."

The boy removed his hand from his sword and stepped forward.

"With all due respect, my mother taught me to always address people with their proper titles. Even if they decline them."

Folken smiled, his own mother coming to mind.

 _Never let anyone dissuade you from treating them with kindness, Folken. Some people don't seek it out, but all of them deserve it._

"A wise woman," Folken said, and the boy smiled.

"Yes, she is," he said, finally relaxing and stepping forward to lean on the half wall to Folken's left.

"Do you have any siblings, Aros?" Folken asked, looking left toward the sea. The mystic moon's reflection danced atop the waves, courting its motionless sister in the sky.

"Two sisters, my lord," the boy said, smiling as he obviously thought of them.

"How old are they?" Folken asked, breathing deep as a breeze blew in.

"Neska is nine, Irina six. Tomboys, the both of them. They spend more time covered in mud than dresses."

Folken smiled, glad that the boy had given in to conversation. Most dutiful soldiers did not indulge.

"Treasure them, while you still can," Folken said quietly, looking into his drink again and finding he no longer wanted it. "Being a soldier, leaving often... it does things to a family. Pulls it apart from every possible direction. But if it is strong, then it will hold. And if your sisters know you love them, then... even when things fall apart, they will always trust you. That's a hard thing to earn back once lost—trust. Almost impossible."

Aros stood quietly for a moment before speaking.

"Do you miss Fanelia, my lord?" He asked.

Folken looked at him finally, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"Every day," he replied. "I didn't leave by choice, and I never got to say goodbye to it, to... cherish the land that raised me."

"Weren't you part of the fleet that attacked it?" Aros asked, instant regret in his eyes upon finding anger in Folken's.

Folken did his best to rid himself of it. The boy was asking a simple question, and just because he didn't want to answer it didn't make it any less valid.

"Yes, I was," he said with forced calm. "A soldier does as his superior commands."

The boy nodded solemnly.

"That's one of the reasons I am here now. Emperor Dornkirk sees victories and strategy, not lives. Not... families. I only wish I had seen sooner..."

Aros nodded again, pity in his young features.

Folken looked down, tossing the wine from his goblet and letting it fall into the garden below. Aros laughed, and it was an innocent sound. It reminded Folken of his brother's.

"I think I will attempt to sleep again," Folken said, clutching the now empty goblet and turning toward his room. "Thank you for your company. Being a turncoat gets lonely."

Aros smiled genuinely. "My pleasure, Lord Folken. I hope you find rest."

Folken nodded, knowing he wouldn't. He took the goblet in his right hand, the metals clinking as they touched. He rested his left on the boy's shoulder in gratitude, and returned to his room.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

For several days, Folken met with strategists, councilmen, and kings, and Eries managed to follow and observe him almost every day. He wasn't difficult to come by; he was dragged to all corners of the city for meetings, all willingly. He was a calm, almost submissive soul, but something remained subtly dangerous about him. Eries had been present for his briefing of the Congress of Kings, and he had been succinct and intelligent. The kings had agreed to form an alliance in opposition of Zaibach, and it was all due to Folken's reasoned arguments. When finished, he bowed, exiting and allowing them to discuss the information without him. And when he wasn't speaking or meeting with someone, he walked around the city. He did that a lot; always escorted by guards, but never really needing it. He visited the marketplace, conversed with merchants, and returned to the beach often. He would stand in the sand for hours, looking out at the horizon unyieldingly until beckoned by another tactician or soldier.

Eries could not deny her curiosity and… attraction to Folken Fanel. Not just physically, although he was strikingly handsome. His calmness beckoned those around him into serenity, and it was a welcome change from the knights, soldiers, and merchants who were always worried about something or another. Eries yearned to speak candidly with him, but also wished to take her own advice and steer well clear of him.

She found herself in the gardens four days after his arrival, simply walking. She ran across a group of castle guards, and heard his name mentioned in their conversation. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, it wasn't ladylike. But her curiosity got the better of her.

"He gives me the creeps," one of them said as their metal armor clanked along with their footsteps. "Someone said he's got a metal right arm, but no one can figure it out because he always keeps it covered."

"That's a pretty sure sign that it's true, to me," another guard replied. "Why else would he bother to hide it?"

"I dunno, Aros said he's kind," a third chimed in. "That he comes to speak with him during his night watch."

"Aros also said he screams in his sleep," came the first voice with consternation.

Eries was taken aback. She had assumed he was a troubled man, but… the thought of such a mild soul suffering…

She forced herself to walk away. Indulging in idle gossip was unbecoming. Let the men talk.

She returned to the castle, finding Millerna waiting for her in the drawing room.

"Where have you been, sister, I was looking for you," Millerna said as Eries entered.

"Oh, my apologies. I was walking in the gardens. Clear my head," Eries said distractedly.

"I spoke with Hitomi," Millerna said. Eries raised an eyebrow in response. "About Folken. She said she saw visions of his objectives, that he is pure of intention. She said she believes in him, believes in his decision to change."

"Oh?" Eries responded.

"Yes, although he certainly likes to keep to himself," Millerna said.

"You haven't… attempted to approach him, have you?" Eries asked, worriedly. Hitomi may have found him harmless, but Eries' gut told her otherwise.

"No, not personally," Millerna replied, taking a seat and waving to one of the handmaidens. "Tea, please," she said simply. "I was present in a meeting with Dryden, though. He… seemed genuine enough. Although he really doesn't look anyone in the eyes. It's kind of off-putting."

Eries recalled how unyielding and dangerous his stare had been when she encountered him.

"Perhaps he is just shy," Eries said with a grin, to which Millerna smiled in return.

"Allen said you spoke with him briefly a few days ago. What did you think?" Millerna asked as the handmaiden returned with the tea and handed her a cup.

"I did. He was… informal, bordering on rude. But I think he's just standoffish to avoid people… well, to avoid _people_ ," Eries finished. "I think he just wants to get his information to the alliance and be left alone."

"How can someone enjoy being alone that much?" Millerna asked, sipping her tea.

"I don't know," Eries replied. "He's been with Zaibach for years. Perhaps he's comfortable that way…"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

 _Folken could feel the sweat beading and dripping down his brow. He wiped his eyes quickly, feeling the sting of the salt from his sweat. He couldn't let it hinder his sight—the dragon was still moving._

 _It was mortally wounded, that much was clear. Its brilliant green blood soaked its hide, soaked the grass, soaked Folken's clothing. The smell was rancid and hot. The beast lay on its side, panting as its many open wounds weakened it. Its left leg seemed to have given out, but it was still attempting to propel itself forward with its right, causing it to dig its own head farther into the sopping-wet earth. Its tongue flared out dangerously, signifying intent to charge._

 _Folken was exhausted. His fear was overwhelming, and made it difficult to draw breath. His throat burned from exertion, and his chest actually hurt from panting._

 _He stood en garde, waiting for the dragon to come to him. He feared if he took another step, he would collapse, and he couldn't afford a misstep._

 _The dragon let out a rib-jolting growl, its visible eye beginning to close slowly._

 _Folken stood in disbelief. He was certain the beast had more fight in it. He waited for a moment, listening as a long, slow breath released from its massive maw and did not continue._

 _He relaxed, lowering his sword hand and standing upright. His muscles burned like fire, his lungs even more so. But it was finished… the fight was over._

 _He took a single step forward…_

 _The dragon's eye flared open and it lunged, using its one good leg. Folken raised his sword quickly, hoping to go for the dragon's eye. The beast whipped to Folken's right, his sword extending into the empty space the dragon's head vacated. Before he could slash, the dragon's dagger-like jaws snapped closed on Folken's upper arm. He screamed as he felt the bones separate, heard them shatter. They made several horrifying pops, making his stomach turn._

 _The dragon's head whipped away, easily taking Folken's entire arm with it. He lived every nanosecond of the moment—feeling a pain so intense his entire body locked up and froze. It felt like fire rampaging through his veins. He watched in horror as his arm and sword clattered to the ground in a puddle of bright red blood… his blood._

 _He collapsed, his throat tightening and making breath nearly impossible. The dragon screeched, stalking forward, its crazed eyes finding him and staring._

 _Folken had known then that it was over. The blood loss alone would be impossible to recover from. Even if he attempted to fly away, he would probably only stay airborne for seconds before passing out and falling from the sky, where the dragon would simply find him once more._

 _A strange peace washed over him as he stared up at his own doom, shielding him from the blinding pain. He was able to take a slow, deep breath. He accepted that, while it would likely be painful, it would be over rather quickly. He made his peace with it, closing his eyes and waiting for the beast to strike._

 _But it never came. Several pounding footsteps later, and Folken opened his eyes to find the dragon retreating into the forest. He watched in dismay, the pain returning and causing black spots to prance through his vision, eventually swallowing him. He recalled voices soon thereafter, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open his eyes._

 _In the daze that followed, he woke periodically, but the overwhelming agony usually made him pass out again within seconds. The jumble of consciousness and emptiness was alarming, and he recalled being filled with an overwhelming amount of fear._

 _He could make out voices on occasion, could barely register being touched… lifted… carried._

 _"We can do it, but he needs blood desperately," an odd, snakelike voice broke into his darkness._

 _He recalled more blinding pain, hearing someone screaming. He managed to open his eyes once, but found only bright white light and four strange shadows. He could hear terrifying sounds, like someone sawing through trees… and he could feel it… feel a grinding in his bones that only made him pass out again._

 _And for what seemed like days, it continued that way. He would fight for consciousness only to be met with uncertainty, darkness, and torment. Several times, he wanted to give up, tried to. Tried to let the darkness take him. The desperation to end it overwhelmed him, and he was distantly aware that something, or someone wasn't letting him._

 _When madness was close to taking him, he woke. He registered lying on something cold and hard, his body shivering. He wasn't sure if he was cold, couldn't access his senses. Perhaps it was the pain._

 _He blinked against a blinding, sterile light. Memories began to flood him—the dragon, its jaws as they closed. He shuddered, immediately raising his right arm. It felt strange when he did. The muscles in his shoulder felt strained and pulled in ways he had never felt. And his hand was oddly sensationless. He knew he was moving it, but felt nothing._

 _Horror befell him as it entered his sight. It was monstrous—a sharp, talon-like claw, with metal, and tubing, and… no sensation except pure unadulterated numbness. It began to shake as he looked at it… turning it over to see if it was real. With a sharp intake of breath, he realized it was._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Princess Eries couldn't sleep. The events of the day kept racing through her mind, as well as thoughts of the turncoat Folken Fanel. All she had heard, all she had assumed… she hated that she was letting hearsay determine her opinion of him. She never let other people make up her mind... hence why it was _her mind_.

She huffed, sitting up in bed. She reached for the candelabra on her bedside table, using it to light a few others. She threw a slip on over her nightgown, lit a torch, and walked out into the hallway. She used to go on midnight walks all the time. After passing over the line of succession, she had felt a wave of freedom—inspiration to do whatever she pleased, whenever she pleased. Since that time, her wild heart had settled a bit, but she knew from past experience that it was relatively easy traverse the castle at night. And very relaxing.

The torches in the hallways were scarcely lit, but she didn't mind. The light of the moons pouring in the open windows and her single candle were enough to light her way. She wasn't quite sure where she was going, but didn't feel the need to figure it out. She just walked…

…and found herself in the north wing… Folken's wing.

 _Did I mean to come here? What am I doing…_

Then she heard it. The gossiping watchmen had been correct. She could hear his mumbling and screaming from the end of the hall. It echoed against the stone, sending a chill down Eries' spine.

The lone night watchman stood solemnly outside the door, his head bowed and eyes closed.

Anger flared in Eries' chest. She stormed forward, approaching the guard. His head snapped up as he heard her footsteps.

"Lady Eries!" the guard gasped. "What are you…"

"Why do you not wake him, he's clearly suffering?!" she exclaimed. The guard bowed his head sadly.

"I am not permitted to enter, milady," he said. "He is a kind man, and I would gladly help him, but… orders are orders."

"What is your name, soldier?" she quipped.

"Aros, milady," he said obediently.

"Aros," she repeated, picking up her gown at the knees. "Move," she demanded, pushing past him.

"Milady, it's not permitted…"

"Then rouse my father and tell him," she said, storming into Folken's bedchamber.

Folken himself was thrashing in his sleep, his sharp right hand shredding the bedclothes beneath him. Sweat drenched his brow and shirt, and his mumbling was incoherent. His face was twisted in fear, or pain... or both.

"Lord Folken," Eries spoke loudly. It didn't stir him.

"Folken," she tried again, louder this time.

Still no response. She approached, kneeling and laying a hand on his left shoulder. "Folken!"

He gasped as his eyes shot open, and he bolted upright. He pushed away from her in his delusion, his breaths short and jagged.

"It's alright, it is I, Princess Eries," she said, holding a hand out to him. He panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his left hand.

"P-princess Eries?" he asked, apprehension falling over his features, followed by horror.

He yanked his sheets up over his right arm, turning away from her somewhat bashfully.

"Please leave me, Princess," he said, his voice harsh.

"It's okay, I already knew," she said in a low whisper, her eyes going to his arm.

He looked down at it, still struggling to catch his breath. "Why—why did you…"

"You were screaming," she said with pity, attempting to look him in the eyes and failing as he avoided her.

"I—was… yes, I do that," he said, beginning to calm. "I do that frequently. It's nothing to fret over."

Eries pulled her head back in shock— _screaming in your sleep is nothing to fret over?_

"Did I wake you?" he asked, finally looking back at her.

 _He was suffering, and he is concerned that he woke me…_

"N—no. I was walking, and I heard." She desperately wanted to ask what he had been dreaming of, but part of her already knew. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, hissing it out through pursed lips. "Just… catching my breath."

Eries watched him for a long time as he calmed, a great pity swelling in her heart.

"Why were you walking in the middle of the night, Princess?" he asked finally, his voice returned to its usual tranquility.

She grinned. "Because I can," she said simply.

She thought she saw him grin, but in the near-darkness it was difficult to tell.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," she said, rising to her feet.

"You didn't," he responded, looking at the open door.

"Well…" she began, unsure of her next words. "I can have one of the servants bring you some herbal tea. It helps to sleep more soundly…"

"No, that's quite alright," he said, rubbing his temple. "I haven't slept soundly in more than ten years. I'm used to it."

Eries furrowed her brow at him in pity. "Good night, Lord Folken."

"Good night, Princess," he said, taking another deep breath.

Eries exited, leaving the guard to watch in stunned silence. She was unsure of what just happened, but… her mind was made up about him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

When Eries encountered Folken in the gardens the next morning, he seemed disappointed—as if hoping to avoid her.

"Good morning, Princess," he said, obligation staining his words.

"Eries, please," she corrected, looking past Folken to the single guard escorting him. In the few days that had passed, the amount of guards on him had decreased from three to just one; much to Van's dismay. Asturia was beginning to trust him, but Van wasn't.

"You may leave us," she said to the guard. His eyes widened.

"I have not been told to…" he began to argue.

"Yes, you have. By me. If your superiors feel you shirked your duties in some way, tell them to discuss the matter with me," she said, not rudely, but with an air of authority.

"Yes, ma'am," the guard said, clicking his heels together and bowing as he backed away.

Folken stared at her silently before continuing on. She joined him at his side. She was distinctly aware that he made an effort to keep himself well out of her personal space. Probably half out of respect, half out of fear—she walked at his right.

"I want to apologize," she began. "If my intrusion was a matter of embarrassment to you."

He nodded 'no,' looking to his left at a particularly radiant blossom.

"It wasn't," he said, reaching out with his left hand and cupping the bloom gently. "I simply desire to keep this… monstrosity hidden. I prefer to be judged by my character, not my appearance. And this…"

He paused, his right hand showing as he peered down at it for only a moment before he hid it again.

"This is difficult to overlook, for some," he said, dropping the blossom and continuing on.

Eries nodded. "Well you don't have to worry about me," she said, watching him. His eyes wandered, enjoying all there was for the garden to offer. "My sister Marlene taught me at a young age to make up my own mind about people, no matter how much they frighten me."

"I frighten you?" he asked with chagrin, turning to look at her.

"Not anymore," she replied with a nod, and he gave her a toothless grin.

Folken looked away from her once more, returning to her previous statement. "I am very sorry about your sister's death. Siblings are… they're special to us. We can talk to them about things we feel we must hide from the rest of our family."

Van came to mind, and the disregard he had shown his brother as of late.

"Thank you, Lord Folken. She was… very special," Eries said, images of her sister fluttering through her mind and depressing her heart.

"Just Folken," he said. "I've had enough propriety to last me two lifetimes."

She nodded with a smile.

"I remember when your family came to Fanelia," he began anew. "Marlene was a happy, joyous soul. She made everyone around her join in her happiness, no matter their mood."

"You remember that?" Eries asked. She barely recalled it herself.

"Of course," he said, stopping at the fountain and peering down into the water. A flash of remorse crossed his features as he looked at his own reflection. "Zaibach was an advanced, marvelous city, but… it was not home. My memories of Fanelia only became stronger the longer I was away."

Eries nodded.

"I want you to know that… I will not mention what… happened last night," she began.

He looked up at her. "I expect no such charity," he said. "I am an outsider here, and people like to talk; might as well give them something real to talk about."

She stared at him intensely, and it did nothing to break his resolve. His gentleness bordered on madness—he remained level-headed even when faced with things that made him uncomfortable. And he had no reservations about what people thought of him.

Before she could reply, she heard the clanking of swords ahead in the garden. There was jolly laughter and congratulatory yelling, so she knew it wasn't a real fight. She looked to Folken in questioning, and he beckoned her forward.

They walked together to a clearing in the garden, the manicured bushes creating a high circular wall. Prancing through the gravel, their swords drawn, were Van and Allen. Millerna, Hitomi, and Merle stood at the far edge, watching with varying degrees of delight.

Van lost his concentration as his brother approached, and Allen used the opportunity. He lunged, slapping the broad side of his sword against Van's bare shoulder.

"You just lost an arm, my friend," Allen said as Van stumbled back, rubbing the red mark on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be the first," Van said with disregard.

"Funny," Folken replied monotonously. Eries could see the annoyance in his features, but he didn't let it show for long.

Allen sheathed his sword, shaking Van's hand in camaraderie.

"How about it, then, brother?" Van asked as he turned to face Folken. Folken merely raised an eyebrow.

"We haven't sparred in a very long time. Perhaps it's overdue," Van said, wiping sweat from his brow.

Folken sighed. "I don't think that's a very good idea," he said flatly.

"Oh, come now," Van said, a hint of ice in his tone. Hitomi and Merle looked worried. "You're not afraid I'll beat you, are you?"

Folken grinned. "We both know that's not why I refuse to fight you. If I recall, you bested me but once, and you did so by disregarding the laws of good conduct."

Anger flashed in Van's eyes. "The enemy doesn't fight with honor, why should I?"

" _Van,_ " Hitomi chastised.

"Of that, I am well aware," Folken said. "Nevertheless, I decline."

"What are you afraid of, _brother?_ " Van asked, extending his sword and using it to fling the drape from Folken's right arm, exposing the metal contraption and bringing shock and anger to Folken's features.

" _Van!"_ Hitomi chastised again, louder this time.

Before letting his anger dictate his response, Folken peered around him, ensuring that no one else was present that didn't already know. He sighed, throwing the drape to the ground and drawing his sword with his left hand. Eries wasn't sure when Asturia had given it back to him—perhaps when they decreased the number of guards.

"This is ill-advised," she murmured.

"Yes, it is," Folken agreed, stepping into the gravel where Van waited. "But my brother is angry with me and only wishes the opportunity to show me just how much. He won't rest until he's had that chance. But that doesn't mean he'll succeed."

The bright sun caused Folken's metal arm to shimmer and gleam.

"Are you as good with your left arm, brother?" Van asked, beginning to circle. Folken followed, his hand steady on the hilt.

"Whoever said I would use my left?" he asked, tossing the sword into his right and striking like a snake. Van didn't even have time to react. The tip of Folken's sword stopped inches from Van's heart.

"Dead," Folken said, backing away.

Van reacted out of anger. He slashed at Folken, but he saw it coming. Folken spun to his left, causing Van's sword to slice through thin air and embed into the gravel at his feet.

Folken used the opportunity to slice upward with his sword, again stopping with the blade at Van's throat.

"Dead again," he said calmly.

Eries couldn't deny; his confidence and slight hint of arrogance made her giddy.

"When you attack with blind anger, you miss things," Folken said, sounding more like a fencing instructor than a big brother.

Van spun around with a growl, his blade meeting Folken's. Folken held him off easily, and it made Eries wonder just how much power was in that metal arm.

"You have to cast aside your rage, no matter how strong it is," Folken said, pushing back against Van's blade. Van's feet slid in the gravel.

Folken's calm only seemed to anger Van more—he wanted some form of vengeance, some kind of reaction from Folken, and wasn't getting it.

"I find that _using my rage_ makes me more powerful, not less," Van grunted back, both hands shaking on the hilt as he held off Folken's sword.

"Having power is different than having the moral high-ground," Folken replied calmly, his hands steady as ever. He pushed back hard, shoving Van back a few paces and separating their stalemate. "I had the power when I attacked Fanelia, but did that make me right?"

Shock and pure fury struck Van features. He was obviously surprised Folken would use the destruction of their homeland against him.

Eries knew exactly what Folken was doing. He was trying to get a rise in his brother—to show him that becoming upset did nothing, and that his own calm would win out.

But Van charged, crying out.

" _How dare you!_ " Van snapped, slashing at Folken frantically. Folken used his footwork to back away lithely with each strike, deflecting Van's blade every time. The swords rang out with the fury of Van's strikes, echoing through the gardens.

Van finally managed to get Folken to block, their swords locked.

" _You have no right…"_ Van snarled.

"I know I don't," Folken responded, his hand actually beginning to shake, cuing everyone in to how strong Van's strike truly was. "That's the point. Despite my obvious ploys to rouse you, you still get angry and miss things."

Folken drug his sword down the length of Van's, the blade hitting Van's hand.

Van yelped, leaping back as blood poured from his hand.

"Lord Van!" Merle cried.

"Perhaps that is enough…" Allen chimed in.

"No!" Van cried, lunging at Folken. Again, Folken stopped him with a cross block.

Van growled, removing his right hand from his sword and reaching beneath the two locked blades to yank one of the tubes loose in Folken's mechanical arm.

Folken yelped, his grip collapsing. The swords chimed, but Folken managed to back away before being struck.

Everyone present yelled. It was a dirty move, and everyone knew it. Steam hissed from a joint in Folken's arm, and his sword fell to the ground. He grasped his metal arm with his left, a grimace crossing his features.

Van didn't stop there. He charged, slicing hard with his sword.

Folken let loose an anguished cry as he stood up straight, catching Van's blade easily in his mechanical hand, crushing the metal and bending it. The movement caused more steam and screeching from Folken's mechanical arm, but he ignored it.

He stalked forward, yanking Van's sword from his hand by the blade. The metal rang against Folken's right hand. He placed his left on Van's chest, shoving him hard onto his back in the gravel.

"Folken!" Eries yelled as guards appeared at every entrance.

Folken knelt, his knee on Van's chest. Van actually looked… terrified.

Folken brought what was left of Van's sword to Van's throat. "You may be angry with me, but you will face me with respect, or you won't face me at all. You are _the king of Fanelia. Conduct yourself as such."_

There was more viciousness in Folken's voice than Eries thought possible. His metal arm was shaking badly, and he quickly stood, releasing Van. Van did not immediately get up, and Merle leapt to his side, her tail whipping about nervously.

Folken spun around angrily, tossing Van's severely damaged sword into the gravel. The guards who had approached kept their weapons trained on Folken, their worried eyes flitting to his arm.

He bent, picking up the drape and tossing it over his arm before stomping toward the garden's exit. The guards moved to block him.

"Let him pass," Eries insisted, walking after him. She was very aware of Folken's state; knew that this would escalate into an incident if guards became involved.

They hesitated, but obliged.


	10. Chapter 10

**WARNING** : SMUT.

* * *

Chapter 10

Eries rounded the corner to Folken's bedchamber just in time to see him rip the drape from his shoulder, tossing it across the room. He stood for a moment, his entire body shaking, before spinning to his right and overturning the desk with his left hand. The paper, pens, wine, and goblets clattered to the floor in a massive roar. Folken breathed heavily, his mechanical arm hanging limp and visibly unresponsive at his side.

Eries jumped when the desk clattered to the ground.

"Folken?" She asked quietly.

He turned, obviously failing to control himself.

"Please leave me, Princess, I'm in no mood..."

"I understand," she replied quietly. "I just... wanted to make sure you were alright."

Upon her kindness, Folken visibly made an effort to calm himself. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. She approached, looking down at his mechanical arm. It was releasing a series of clicks, like misaligned gears.

"Do you need help?" She asked, reaching for his arm.

She didn't feel any malice from him, but he pulled away from her. Somehow, she understood that it wasn't distrust that motivated him, but self-consciousness.

"No, thank you Eries," he said with forced calm. She was distinctly aware that this was the first time he had simply used her name. Not Princess, not milady... just her name. She appreciated it.

He sat at the now desk-less chair before him, pulling the motionless arm into his lap with his left hand. He winced, a pained sound escaping him.

"Does... does it pain you?" She asked, simply watching him in fascination.

He worked on it with his left hand, not meeting her gaze.

"It's a difficult sensation to explain," he replied, his whole body tensing as he turned a bolt and it clicked. "I don't feel anything from the damage itself, but... there are fibers that are fused with the nerves and muscles in my shoulder, so to an extent, yes I feel some things. I'm immediately aware when something is wrong, but it doesn't register like pain does. More like… numbness."

"That clicking you hear is an electrical charge," he continued, his body jerking every few seconds. "It's how my nerves and muscles communicate with the arm, allowing me to move it. Misaligned, as it is, the charge is attacking my nerves…" he jerked again, wincing. "Instead of communicating with them."

Eries had no response. It was horrifying, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like.

Folken struggled with the tubing that Van had yanked free. He swallowed hard, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Eries reached out, laying her hand across his left and looking unyieldingly into his wine dark eyes.

"Let me help you," she said.

He considered for a long time before nodding.

She knelt before him, taking the tube and finding the port where it clearly attached.

"Just here?" She asked, pointing.

He nodded, staying silent.

When she attached it, he jerked, sharply intaking a breath.

"Did I hurt you!?" She asked worriedly.

"No," he said, wincing as the mechanism clicked, whirred, and was silent. "That's normal; let's me know it's working."

Eries stood, nodding. Folken began to work his right hand into a fist, ensuring it was responsive.

"I apologize for losing my temper," he said, adopting his usual calm.

Eries scoffed. "You are possibly the most laid-back man I've ever met. You are entitled to lose control every now and then."

He smiled appreciatively at her. "Nevertheless, I apologize. It was not gentlemanly."

"Apology accepted... but not necessary," she said, watching him test his arm. "What Van did was uncalled for."

He nodded solemnly. "I should not have attacked him either," he said, regret soaking his words.

He raised his mechanical arm to chest height, and his breath caught. He reached up and clutched his shoulder with his left hand, a groan of pain escaping him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, it's just... the metal is heavy and my shoulder becomes very sore the more I use it," he said, wincing against his own touch. "And the malfunction certainly didn't help."

"Here," she said, walking around him and laying a hand on his shoulder.

He tensed, sharply inhaling.

"Well it will only hurt more if you tense up," she said with a slightly chastising tone. His body was like stone beneath her fingers. "Relax. I won't hurt you."

"My apologies," he said, attempting to relax. "It's natural for me to assume it will; it has nothing to do with you."

Eries felt a twinge of pity, and used it to begin gently working his shoulder muscle with her thumb and pointer finger.

He took shallow breaths for a moment, but she made sure she bordered on too gentle rather than too hard. He relaxed slowly, and she smiled.

After a time, he raised his left hand, resting it atop hers to stop her. She leaned forward, trying to gauge his expression and finding him staring blankly forward. She walked around him, keeping her hand on his shoulder, beneath his hand. He looked up slowly at her, something dark and mysterious in his gaze.

Eries took a deep breath, feeling the atmosphere between them change drastically. Where before it had been calm and innocent, there was something very... carnal about it now. She considered fighting her baser instincts, fighting against what she wanted. But she quickly lost the fight.

She raised an eyebrow, sliding her hand across his shoulder to his neck. For a moment, she considered speaking… asking him… but none seemed right.

She gripped her dress at the thigh with her free hand, pulling it up to allow more movement and sliding her knee onto the chair to the right of his thigh. She followed suit with her left, straddling him.

He seemed completely unsurprised. He leaned back, looking up into her eyes as her hand slid up his neck and into his hair. She grasped a handful of it, gently tugging his head back and leaning in to kiss him.

He kissed her back, his tongue sliding across her lower lip with torturous accuracy. She felt his left hand wrap around her lower back, resting there calmly.

She felt a wave of courage come over her and, keeping him occupied with her lips, she reached down and grasped his metal hand, guiding it to rest on her back with the other. It was cold—she could feel it through her dress. And she could feel the sharp points of his fingers barely touching her.

He pulled away from the kiss, blinking several times and leaning his head down and against her chest, hiding his face from her. His breath warmed her clothing, and for a moment, she thought he would deny her. That he would stop her.

His hands moved suddenly from her lower back, wrapping beneath her bum and pulling her close against him. He looked up at her again, but did not kiss her. He stared flames into her, his wine red eyes burning. He was maddeningly calm as he stood, holding her aloft easily. She wrapped her legs around him the best she could in her dress, resting both hands around his neck.

He walked slowly to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as she ran her fingers through his hair. He raised his left hand, placing it between her shoulder blades and cradling her as he lowered her softly onto the bed. She watched him intently as he laid her down, then slowly retreated to the foot of the bed. He hooked a single finger under her dress, pushing it up her thigh and letting his fingertip trail her skin. She shivered, grinning despite her efforts not to.

He pushed the dress all the way up her leg, pausing only to rest his lips briefly on her thigh, her hip bone. When he had pushed it far enough, she grasped it, arching her back to give herself slack and yanking it over her head. She lay beneath him, completely naked, and yet he never looked away from her eyes.

She reached for the zipper on his tunic, pulling it slowly down. He remained propped above her, and he was again maddeningly steady. She felt a giddy urge to break his facade, to make him lose control.

She pushed his tunic back over his shoulders, and he leaned up, tearing it off the rest of the way, with little haste. He paused, fear etching his features as she laid eyes on his arm uncovered for the first time.

She couldn't deny it was monstrous—there were four long bands stretching down the right side of his chest, anchored into his flesh. But instead of inspiring fear in her, it inspired pity; she couldn't imagine what it must have been like, what it must have felt like. She sat up slowly, bringing her lips to the bands and pressing them against the mixture of metal and flesh.

She expected to inspire a reaction from him as she looked up into his maroon eyes, but his usual calm remained as he kissed her torturously slowly, pushing her back.

It was beginning to frustrate her.

He leaned over her, propping himself with his metal arm and placing his other on her ribs. He leaned in and kissed her, forcefully but carefully. His touch was light, almost ticklish as it ran up her ribs, and he was beginning to drive her mad.

She rested a hand on his neck, dragging her leg up his left side and twisting her hips. She pushed him onto his back on the bed, straddling him once more. Again, he didn't fight her, didn't force her into his pace. He simply let her dominate him.

His control was astounding. Despite his body, his obvious need, he let her take her time, let her do as she pleased, watching her as hawk watches prey. She grinned, taking it as a personal challenge. She reached down, maintaining eye contact as she did, and grasped his metal hand in hers. This seemed to stir him a little, if only with fear.

She brought his metal fingers to her lips, taking two of them in her mouth. The metal was cold and smooth against her tongue, and she made a show of sucking on them. He twitched, something akin to lust flaring in his eyes for only seconds.

"Careful," he warned, his voice deep and hoarse. She wasn't sure what the warning was for—if he truly thought he might hurt her, or if he was warning her against playing with him like that. Either way, she ignored it.

She released his metal hand, intertwining her fingers in his. She found his other hand, sliding her fingers in and drawing both his arms up to his shoulders. She leaned down, pinning his arms up and bringing her lips to his neck. She leaned in slowly, attempting to torture him the way he did her, and placing her lips and tongue on the warm flesh of his neck, licking and kissing.

He still didn't break. He simply watched her calmly, his eyes the only thing giving him away.

She dragged her tongue across his collar bone to his good shoulder, opening her mouth and closing her teeth on his shoulder muscle.

Both his hands closed hard on hers, and his entire body tensed. His metal hand was much stronger than his left, and it was almost painful. He tried to stifle the hiss of breath he made, but it escaped anyway.

Eries leaned up, smiling in her victory and looking down at him. She kept his arms pinned up, and he let her. She leaned back down, maintaining his eyes as she lowered herself onto him.

She whimpered as the initial pain gave way to pleasure. She lowered herself slowly, allowing him to fill her.

He gritted his teeth, gasping quietly as he returned her fiery gaze. She continued to keep his arms pinned, and began moving her hips, torturously slowly. His hands clutched at hers, and she welcomed the pain his metal one caused. She let her mouth hang open as she rolled her hips back and forth, knowing what it would do to him.

He broke their gaze, leaning his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. It was as much reaction as she had hoped for. Even in the throes, he was managing to keep irritatingly calm.

She leaned down, changing the angle and kissing and sucking on his neck. A small whimper escaped him, and she smiled against his flesh, happy to be breaking him.

She finally released his hands, leaning back to give him the full picture as she continued rolling her hips.

He watched her dangerously, his hands instantly going to her legs. He ran them up her thighs slowly, wrapping them beneath her to her rear and gripping her as she moved. The cold metal sent a shiver coursing through her, and she inhaled through her teeth.

She wanted to move faster, but also wanted to torture him as he had her. So she continued, rolling her hips like the crashing waves of Asturia's shoreline, in a constant and measured rhythm.

Their breathing began to sync with her movement, and she felt her skin becoming hot with perspiration. Sweat was visible on his chest, gleaming against his muscles.

His breaths became pants, and his hands tightened on her. The metal hand began to hurt her, and she whimpered.

The sound visibly affected him. He gasped, bolting upright. He angled his legs up, which pushed her body against his chest. The friction changed instantly, and they both moaned together. One of her hands ran lightly up his back and into his hair, and he arched his back when she did.

His metal hand slid to her lower back, pulling her even harder against him. Her stomach and breasts contacted his chest. She kissed him hard, taking his lower lip in her teeth and bunching her fist in his hair, knowing it would hurt.

He growled into their kiss, and she felt his metal hand scratch at her back. It should have been painful, but… it sent a wave of heat throughout her entire body. She yelped, removing her lips from his.

He tensed, small whimpers beginning to escape with every exhale, cuing her to his impending release.

A wicked streak attacked her, and she bent her head down and bit him again, this time on his right shoulder… his bad shoulder.

He cried out, his metal hand clawing her. She was sure it broke the skin, but she ignored it. His chest tightened, and he gasped. She smiled, continuing to ride him through his release. He shut his eyes tight, clutching at her so tightly it almost made it difficult to move.

He gasped one final time, his entire body seizing up like stone. She held him close, feeling the sweat drip down her chest and back. She should have felt guilty, indecent, shameful, but… she didn't.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Eries lay naked on her stomach in his bed, her chin propped on both her arms. He had covered them both with a single sheet, but soon thereafter he had dragged it down her back until it barely even covered her bum. He lay on his side facing her, his head propped on his left hand as he lightly trailed his metal fingers down her spine.

"You've done that before," he said in a low whisper, his voice dark and visceral.

She smiled, turning her head to look at him. She recalled the months following her denial of the crown; she was seventeen, heartbroken about her sister's death, and in a very poor mental state. She had done some foolish things with some very foolish men. Which led her to a conclusion—Folken was too confident, too collected to have never done this before either.

"As have you," she replied in kind.

Some small amount of surprise crossed his features as she admitted.

"What, just because I refused the right of succession, that means I have to die an old maid?" she asked with a grin.

"No, I just… didn't expect that," he replied.

"If you were so worried about sullying my honor, why didn't you stop me?" she asked, feeling her voice hoarse.

He breathed deeply, looking back at her. "You're a grown woman. You certainly do whatever you please. If you had wanted to stop, you would have."

He leaned forward, kissing her shoulder. "That, and… _I didn't want to stop you._ "

She smiled. His fingers grazed a tender spot on her lower back, and she winced. He looked down.

"I hurt you," he said, his fingers steady over what were undeniably five scratch marks on her lower back.

"I enjoyed it," she snapped back, actually bringing color to his cheeks.

She simply looked at him for a time. He seemed unaware that he was being studied—he was distractedly tracing shapes on her back. It felt dangerous-like he was dragging swords up and down her flesh with all the gentleness of butterfly wings.

She reached over, running a thumb over the purple teardrop mark on his right cheek.

"What is this?" She asked quietly.

He blinked several times, something stopping him from answering right away.

"It's a tattoo," he said, and she raised a brow in shock. She had figured it was, but she had never seen a highborn with a tattoo. Some merchants and shipmen had them, but they were considered taboo.

"I got it in Zaibach, shortly after they took me in. I wanted a reminder of Fanelia, of... the day I never went back."

She narrowed her eyes in wonder.

"What happened?" she asked, knowing it was a sensitive subject and electing to ask anyway. "Why did you never go back?"

He stared back at her, all expression leaving him and causing his eyes to go somewhat blank.

"If you don't want to answer, you don't have to," she added gingerly.

"No, I will," he said, averting his eyes. "I tell everyone that it's because Zaibach saved me and I felt my life was indebted to them. And that's... partly true. I didn't go back, because..."

His words caught, and he paused, clearing his throat in anxiety. Eries suddenly felt guilty for having asked.

"The right of succession is different in Fanelia. When the prince comes of age, he is tasked with slaying a dragon and returning victorious to the city bearing the beast's energist. It symbolizes that he is ready for the responsibility and burden of ruling. If he is strong enough to fell a dragon, then the people accept that he is strong enough to govern them."

He paused, darkness and melancholy befalling his eyes. She wanted to stop him, hush the words that pained him. But she also desperately wanted to know—wanted to unearth some of what made him such a mystery.

"When the dragon took my arm, I thought it was over. I was afraid, but also... somehow at peace. I'd been proven unworthy, and I would pay for it with my life."

"Don't say that," Eries whispered, flipping onto her side and intertwining her fingers in his metal ones.

"It's true," he responded, watching as she closed her fingers on his hand. "Not a single Fanelian king of the past had ever failed to slay the dragon, and lived to tell of it. But as I lay on the ground, completely ready to die, the dragon backed away and left me there. What I didn't know then was that dragons are drawn to fear and hatred, and when I accepted my fate, my fear washed away. It left me; left me to accept that I had failed. To accept that I wasn't strong enough for Fanelia. And when Zaibach found me and took me in, I was conflicted. I wanted to go home. I loved my mother, loved Van... _so much_."

He paused, trying to take a deep breath and shuddering slightly. Eries pulled his metal hand to her lips comfortingly, kissing the hard, cold knuckles.

"How could I go back? How could I face my family, face my people? I failed to slay the dragon... would they make me try again? I feared dragons for a long time after it happened, and I simply didn't want to. Or would they accept their failed prince and let the throne go to Van... would I be forced to stand in the shadows, a constant reminder to Fanelia that their prince had failed them. And then there was this..."

He pulled his hand out of hers, balling it into a fist.

"I would return monstrous; a bastardized version of the former man. A reminder that Zaibach had to fix what I did."

His voice was shaking with emotion, and Eries clutched his metal hand again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," she said, pulling his hand and resting it on her chest over her heart.

"The topic upsets me, not you," he replied, finally meeting her eyes. There was something unfamiliar there. "You've been... uncommonly kind. I had almost forgotten what it was like to trust someone, to... not worry about _this_."

His hand twitched against her skin.

She smiled, but didn't respond.

He was quiet for a long time, and she simply lie there, holding his hand against her and watching him breathe.

"In the spirit of confession, why did you deny your succession?" Folken finally asked.

She felt the tables turn on her, feeling the vulnerability he must have experienced moments ago.

She sighed, wondering where to begin.

"Well, I... I saw what it did to Marlene," she said, running a finger back and forth absently in his metal palm. "She loved A—"

She paused, remembering who she was talking to. Her family's dirty little secret had remained just that for a reason.

"Who would I tell?" he asked, obviously anticipating her thoughts. "The only person to purge their fear long enough to speak to me is you," he finished with a crooked half-smile.

Her anxiety did not dissipate.

"Swear you will say nothing," she said, sounding more demanding than she meant to.

He pulled her hand toward him, laying it on his chest over his heart, mimicking her very same action only a moment ago.

"I swear," he said quietly.

Eries took a deep breath. "Marlene was in love with Allen. She met him when she was young, and they courted for years. She hoped that father would catch her subtle hints about Allen. He wasn't royalty, but he was a knight, so she hoped father would propose a marriage to him. Instead, he... he picked a more financial and political match—Duke Freid.

"It broke her heart. I remember lying awake at night and hearing her cry and cry. But for all her tears and sleepless nights, it changed nothing. She was married off to Duke Freid. But he was good to her, and she began to care for him too. I didn't get to see or speak to her much after the marriage, but she used to write to Millerna and me almost every day. In her letters, she explained that she was being torn apart—feeling deep love for both men and not knowing what to do.

"And when prince Chid was born..."

Eries paused, sorrow filling her again. Folken's hand tightened on hers in support.

"Chid was borne of a tryst between her and Allen. Chid is not Duke Freid's," she said, falling silent.

Folken simply stared back at her, no judgment on his face at all. He seemed... reserved—glad to be her confidant.

"They say she died from complications of the pregnancy, but... I think it was more than that. Her heart was pulled in two separate directions. And she felt horribly guilty for what happened with Allen. She was just... she was nothing, if not dutiful. And her attempts to make everyone happy except herself eventually tore her apart."

Folken reached up, moving a strand of hair from her face and placing it behind her ear. He cupped her head, his metal fingers drifting through her hair like a comb.

"That is why I declined the right," she said with finality. "I suppose it's terribly selfish of me, but... I didn't want to suffer the same fate as Marlene."

"It's not selfish," Folken said. "It's... smart. You saw what others didn't, and avoided it."

He pulled her to him, kissing her lips softly.

Eries knew she should have left, should have returned to her room for the night. The longer she stayed, the higher the chance that someone would find out. But lying with him felt so right. They didn't have to speak; in fact they rarely did after that. They just enjoyed the others' company. And when he fell asleep, she rested her head on his chest and fell too.

She dreamed of her sister, dreamed that the three of them were back together again, riding their horses across the Asturian plains much faster than their mother usually allowed.

And several times throughout the night, Folken began to murmur and jerk, and she would rouse him gently.

"Shhh," she would coo like a mother, shaking him with a gentle hand. "I'm here. _You're_ here. It's not real."

Sometimes he wouldn't fully wake, but he would calm, relaxing against her. And if ever she moved too far from him in the bed, he would pull her back, wrapping his arms around her protectively. The longer they stayed that way, the metal of his arm warmed, and she found she didn't mind it. In fact, she felt protected. Like a sword was constantly wrapped around her.

When the sun came up, Eries groaned. She splayed a hand out on his chest, leaning up and lightly brushing his lips with hers.

He stirred, smiling against her lips but not opening his eyes. "It's morning, isn't it?" he asked, his hand crawling up her back and into her hair. He moved his fingers in circles on her scalp, and it threatened to send her back to sleep.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled.

"You have to go," he said, continuing.

"Mmhmm," she said, less conviction accompanying the words.

He sighed, making no moves to let her go.

"You're going out with Gaddes today, remember. Looking for the downed Vione," she said, fighting to keep her eyes open. The council had discussed adopting some of Zaibach's war machines, and Folken had suggested they harvest them from the Vione. It was badly damaged in the fight that brought it out of the sky, but its rubble remained intact off the coast. "And I'm sure they'll come to collect you any minute now. And if they find the Princess, like _this_ … with _you…"_

"Mmmmm, ask me if I care," he said jokingly.

"Oh, don't be that way. They'll take your other arm!" she said, pushing away from him and finding it difficult. The cool air made her shiver when it hit her naked body, and she yearned to leap back into the bed and collapse next to him.

"Well… at least I'll be symmetrical," Folken said in jest, finally opening his eyes and watching her pull her dress on.

She smiled, smoothing her hair. "I like this Folken better," she said, leaning back onto the bed and kissing him one more time. "He's… less on-guard."

He rubbed his eyes. "He also slept better than he has in… years," he said, looking at her seriously. "Thank you."

She recalled how vulnerable it had felt, constantly keeping him from slipping into his nightmares.

"The pleasure was mine, _Folken_ ," she said, heading for the door.

"Well… not _all_ yours," he mumbled, an indecent tone in his voice.

"I will see you when you return," she said sharply, ignoring her reddened cheeks as she pulled the door open and exited.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

It felt strange to Folken to be riding in one of Asturia's levi-ships. It was oddly similar to the Fortresses of Zaibach, but it was smaller and much more vulnerable to attack.

And there were fewer places to avoid people.

Gaddes's crew were stir-crazy, on-edge men who didn't seem to trust Folken one bit. And the king of Rhyne, who had come along, didn't seem to care for him much either.

He didn't really care—he had expected as much when he came to Asturia. He was here to help them in their fight against Dornkirk, not coddle them. But he disliked the mood it put him in—defensive and unable to relax.

He couldn't help thinking of her as he stared out the great glass windows of the ship's cockpit. She made him feel at-ease; something he hadn't found in a very long time. He knew he should have regretted what they did—that it was horribly inappropriate. She was a Princess, and he a disgraced defector. But he just couldn't bring himself to tarnish it with negative thoughts. It wasn't as if either of them had been unwilling. She wasn't eligible for the throne, and refused marriage. He might have felt worse if she was.

"Aren't you afraid of retribution from Zaibach?" a voice came from behind him.

He turned, finding Gaddes approaching slowly. He seemed a more level-headed fellow than the rest of his crew. He just wanted to complete his mission, and wasn't letting petty things like distrust stand in his way.

"No," Folken replied, turning back to the window. "Fear has done nothing for me in the past except breed into something worse. If Dornkirk catches me and discovers I've given away all of his plans, he will kill me. It's that simple. And fearing it won't change that."

Gaddes approached and stood to Folken's right. "I've heard stories of the Emperor's… punishment. That he disfigures those who fail him. That he tortures them."

"I never failed him, so I wouldn't know," Folken replied. "But I do know about his sorcerers. They are apathetic and heartless men… if you can even call them that. And they are charged with dealing with… failures. So it wouldn't surprise me if the things you heard are true."

He could see Gaddes look at him from his periphery, felt his eyes go to his arm.

Folken raised his hand from beneath the drape, turning it over to reveal his claw-like fingers.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to stare," Gaddes said, looking away, his voice unsteady.

"It's fine," Folken said, dropping it beneath the drape once more. "You're curious, as are your men. And if no one ever asks, then that curiosity will turn to blind fear, and… you already know what I think about that."

Gaddes smiled. "You're a wise man, Folken Fanel," Gaddes said.

"Hmm," Folken grunted in return. "Wisdom is only earned through poor choices and suffered consequences. I think I'd rather be a fool."

Gaddes smiled, nodding.

"We're approaching, sir!" Gaddes's pilot Keo called, guiding the wheel slightly left.

"Perfect," King Rhyne exclaimed, entering the bridge and joining Folken and Gaddes at the window. "Ready to prove yourself, young man?"

Folken turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "Retrieving this engine will prove nothing," he said, to which Rhyne's features dropped. "If I can even mend the damage, its power is too immeasurable for any of us to hope to control. I will help you use it to defeat Dornkirk, but make no mistake, I will see that it is never used again."

"That wouldn't be an excuse to keep its power from us, would it?" Rhyne asked, turning to face Folken and stepping into his personal space.

Folken did not dignify him by turning to face him. "Of course not, your highness," he said calmly, looking out over the ocean. "But I created this monstrosity you're about to resurrect. I know what it's capable of. I'd prefer _no one_ have it, but seeing as I've promised to aid the alliance's crusade in exchange for my asylum, then I begrudgingly oblige."

The king huffed, staring at Folken with malice. He seemed ready to pull his sword.

"If you wish to avoid finding out what _I'm_ capable of, step away from me Rhyne," Folken growled, unable to keep his level head.

Anger flared on the King's face, but Gaddes stepped forward, separating them.

"If you look just down this way, your majesty," Gaddes hurried, guiding the king closer to the window, obviously having felt the twisting atmosphere.

 _Thank you, Gaddes_ , Folken thought to himself, taking a deep breath. _I would have done something I'd regret._

"You can see Reeden just down there in the rubble, attaching the lift cables to the engine," Gaddes continued, and the King seemed sufficiently distracted.

"Think you can fix it?" Keo asked from the wheel.

"That depends on how much time I have," Folken replied, watching as the engine was slowly lifted from the Vione's wreckage. He was suddenly aware that he was looking at Naria and Eriya's grave. Images of them flooded his mind, and he wasn't able to keep them at bay.

When he had first rescued them, they would sleep on his bed. They were small at the time, and curled up on either side of him. Having them with him so much had kept his nightmares at bay for a long time. When he would jerk and cry out in his sleep, they would both leap up, licking his face in worry. As they grew older, they slept in their own beds, but they would occasionally sneak in.

He swallowed his sorrow, shaking their image from his mind.

"I can fix almost anything, given the time," he continued, narrowing his eyes and studying the dripping engine as it was hoisted upward. "We won't know our timetable until we know just how close Zaibach is to breaking treaty with Asturia."

"I received word before we departed that Basram has joined the alliance," King Rhyne said, turning back to face the bridge. "Basram is notorious for keeping out of skirmishes, so this is good news, good news indeed. However, it will be obvious to Zaibach when the armies gather…"

"No word yet on when that will be?" Folken asked.

"None yet," the king replied, stumbling as the engine was brought on board and the ship jolted. "The council has suggested a meeting be set up so that the countries can formulate a universal plan. We will see to it when we return."

Folken sighed, nodding. "Please let me know what they decide," he said. "Fixing this engine is going to be a task, and I… need to know how little time I have."

Rhyne nodded, obviously content to put their argument behind him. "Yes, we will."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Eries watched from the castle tower as the levi-ship returned, lowering the strange engine into a hangar before lowering into one adjacent to it. She felt a childish need to run to the hangar and greet the crew… greet Folken as they disembarked. But that would be rash, and unexplainable to those who saw her. And it had gone unspoken that their tryst would remain secret. She wasn't eligible for the throne, but if it became public that she had lain with a man out of wedlock, nonetheless _this_ man… her family's already fragile reputation, hers… they would be ruined. And Asturia would certainly jail, if not execute Folken.

She sighed, picking up her dresses and descending the tower stairs. She would wait until the council met with him. At least then she could explain her presence.

She was thankful her father had permitted her an advisory role in her country's government. He had decided when she denied the succession that she was an intelligent young woman, and he appreciated her ability to be unbiased, even in heated discussions. Many other countries were shocked that a woman was often seen advising military leaders, but Asturians had accepted it long ago. And most Asturian Generals respected and heeded her opinion.

She met Millerna in the drawing room, where she was already waiting with Dryden.

"Have they returned?" Millerna asked, and Dryden looked to Eries for the answer.

"Yes," she said, taking a seat and waving to a handmaiden for tea. "It appears the salvage was a success—they lowered that… _thing_ into one of the hangars. I assume they are on their way here."

"Yes, I requested they meet me here to discuss our next move," Dryden said, adjusting his glasses. "The alliance needs to come up with a plan, but we can't do it here, within Asturia. It's too dangerous. We need somewhere more… clandestine. And we're running out of time. The armies of Deadalus and Cesario have already arrived. And I've heard Basram has allied. If they join us here, it will be all but obvious to the watchful eyes of Zaibach that we have united against them."

Worry seeped into Eries' bones. What if Zaibach saw the ship return with one of their stolen engines? They would know it was…

"Have they returned?"

Eries turned to find Allen and Van entering.

"They're on their way here now," Dryden said, a hand resting on Millerna's shoulder.

"And they got it?" Van asked.

"Yes," Eries replied, finding many of Folken's features in his younger brother. She hadn't spent much time around him, but now that she looked at him, they were… very similar. They both had kind eyes that were masked behind passivity or defensiveness. "They landed only minutes ago with the contraption in tow. What does your brother plan to do with it?"

Van looked perturbed at being reminded that his brother was part of this equation.

"Not entirely sure," he said shortly. "He said it would help in the efforts against Zaibach. Didn't really explain it to me, but he must have convinced _someone_."

Eries nodded.

Just as the handmaiden returned with the tea, so did the crew of the salvage party—Gaddes, King Rhyne, and Folken.

Eries felt a wave of relief come over her, immediately chastising herself. _You don't even know him that well. Stop acting like a child. You did a foolish thing with him, and you have to live with it._

He didn't look at her, and she was slightly aware he was trying to do the same thing she was—control his reaction to her presence.

"So?" Dryden asked, looking to Folken.

"I've made a cursory inspection, and it seems to be in… decent shape. I need to know how much time I have. Has the alliance set a meeting?" Folken asked, his usual calm keeping his voice at a near-monotone.

"Not yet," Dryden said with disappointment. "It's like corralling cat-women. The leaders don't want to commit to anything rash yet, and as such, they are tentative to plan a meeting. But nevertheless, I will get in contact with them, and force them to decide. Until then, do the best you can."

Folken nodded.

"What about Rampant?" Allen suggested. "That outpost sees traffic coming in and out all day, every day. So one more ship, even if burdened with kings, should go unnoticed."

Dryden rubbed his chin as he thought. "That's not a bad idea… if I can approach the leaders wi—"

Eries tried to keep her attention on the matter at hand. She listened intently to Dryden for as long as she could before her eyes wandered to Folken. He didn't immediately look at her, but it was as if he felt her gaze. And when he blinked, finding her eyes, a thousand desires assaulted her daydreaming mind.

 _The cold, hard metal of his hand on her breasts. The salt of his sweat on her tongue as she licked him from navel to neck. Her grip on the sheets as her body betrayed her. The cries she would elicit from him, the unhinged passion..._

She blinked the images away, somewhat taken aback by the intense vulgarity of her own mind.

She peered around, irrationality telling her those present had seen her thoughts.

When she found Folken staring back at her, a small, almost undetectable grin slowly spread his lips.

 _Could he tell... what I was thinking?_

She looked away from him bashfully, feeling her cheeks warm. She disguised it by taking her tea and sipping at it.

"It's decided then," Dryden said with finality, pulling Eries' attention back. "I will suggest Rampant to the leaders, and I'm sure they will agree. I'll keep you all updated. Now, I think that's enough business for today," he said with a smile. "Let's get some dinner."

Folken nodded, excusing himself. He never attended dinner, instead electing to dine in his chambers alone. Eries sighed, standing.

A wild thought struck her, and she made her way down to the kitchens. She had been on more than one occasion, much to her father's dismay; the ladies of the house never went into the kitchens, it was considered improper. That sort of work was for the servants. But Eries never agreed.

To her delight, her presence went relatively unnoticed; Lyra, the cook, was a wild conversationist, her sixty years of service providing her with boundless tales. Eries used to engage her for hours, listening uninhibited to her stories as the kitchen bustled around her. It caused the kitchen staff to ignore her presence as she snuck a plate and one of her father's best bottles of wine.

His door was open when she approached, and there was no guard. _I guess they trust him now_.

She leaned into the doorframe quietly, finding him sitting at the desk, several candles lighting the book he was reading as he ate.

Eries grinned, tapping the wine bottle against the door lightly.

He looked up at her slowly, the candlelight casting his handsome, angular face into relief.

He bowed his head in greeting, rising from the desk and looking at the plate and bottle she carried.

"What did you do?" he asked, taking the bottle from her and studying it.

"May I join you?" she asked, sauntering inside and ignoring his question.

"Of course," he said, popping the cork off of the bottle easily with his metal hand as he closed the door with his other.

She set her plate down on his desk, looking around for the wine glasses and finding none.

"Where are your goblets?" she asked. He turned, seeming bashful.

"They… got broken when I…"

 _Tossed the desk. Right._

"Oh well," she said, approaching him and taking it. She brought it to her lips, drinking from the bottle.

Shock was evident on Folken's features. " _Princess!"_ he gasped, half-jokingly.

"What, you've never seen a noble woman drink from the bottle? You and I have lived _very_ different lives," she said with a smile.

"That, we have," he said, returning her smile and beckoning her to take his chair. "I'm finished," he said, when she pointed to his dinner in questioning.

She sat, peering at the book he had open.

"Something from your father's library," he said, taking the bottle and grinning as he took a sip.

"Liberating isn't it?" she asked, and he nodded, looking at the bottle once more.

"So… what are you going to do with that… _thing_ you salvaged from the Fortress," Eries asked as she ate.

Folken sighed, setting the bottle on the desk and beginning to pace.

"It has several functions, but the main one is to help control when and where the pillars of light appear—the ones that transport people. It's… it's Atlantian power."

"Dornkirk is harnessing the power of Atlantis?!" Eries asked, shocked. She didn't know much of it, only what she had read in stories, but… what she did know was that it was difficult to control.

"Not just harnessing, he did that a long time ago," Folken said, rubbing his temples. "He's going to use it. Use it against the alliance. To wipe out their resistance, seize control of all Gaea, and enforce his 'New Destiny'."

"But… isn't using it what destroyed the Atlantians?" Eries asked, pausing her meal to turn and look at him.

"Yes," he said quietly. "But Dornkirk is under the belief… no, the _delusion_ that he is stronger than they were; that he alone can control it. For a long time, I thought he did."

Eries looked at him for a moment. He looked conflicted, troubled. Not what she wanted to see.

She stood, approaching him and laying both hands on his chest. "What's wrong?" she asked, searching his eyes and finding them distracted.

His hands reached up, taking her wrists and pulling them away from his chest. Confusion attacked her then— _is he pushing me away?_

"I think…" he paused, looking down at her hands instead of in her eyes. "I think I may have deceived you about… this. Us. What this can be."

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to try to get him to look at her. He still refused.

"What did you think I wanted, Folken?" she asked, allowing him to continue to hold her wrists. "Did you think I wanted marriage? I turned that down a long time ago. I just wanted…"

She paused, confronting the issue to herself. _What_ did _I want?_

"I wanted _you_ ," she said with finality. "I wanted you." She said it again so he would understand.

He still didn't look at her, but his grip on her wrists lessened. "It doesn't have to be anything more than lust," she said, unsure if it was true.

He sighed, swallowing hard against something—dread, regret. "I just…" he paused, closing his eyes and backing away from her. He let her hands go and began pulling his shirt from his shoulders.

When he had removed it, he took a single step back and finally looked at her.

Massive black wings erupted from his back, spanning almost the entire room. Eries gasped, taking a shocked step back and covering her mouth with a hand.

"It's true," she muttered, her eyes spanning the entire length of them. "You're Draconian."

He nodded solemnly as the wings relaxed, folding like a dove's and falling to his sides.

She took a step forward, her mouth agape as she studied them. She had heard rumors—sailors and warriors talking. But it had all been about Van. It was only natural that…

" _My Gods,_ you're beautiful," she gasped, unable to keep the thought from escaping.

He furrowed his brows in shock. "You're not afraid?" he asked quietly. "Draconians are bad omens."

She took one last step forward, finding herself in front of him again. She raised her hands, placing them on either side of his neck. His skin was warm, and she could feel his anxious pulse against her fingertips.

"I've never been superstitious," she said, running her thumb back and forth on his neck. A thought struck her then, and she narrowed her eyes. "Why are they black?"

His eyes darkened, and he looked away again. She suddenly regretted asking.

"That's why I'm showing them to you," he said, his voice hoarse and broken. "I've meddled with fate for too long—been party to the alteration of destiny. It… it means I…"

He paused, a small shudder coursing him.

"It means my time is running out," he said, still refusing to look at her.

"What?" she asked. _What does he mean by that?_

"It means I'm dying. No matter what happens. And I… don't want to deceive you into thinking that this is going to end well… for either of us. It may just be lust, but… I don't want to hurt you."

Eries took a shaky breath, unsure what to make of this information. _He's… he's dying._ She felt a pit in her chest that she tried to push away. She took a forced breath, raising her hands and forcing him to look at her. _He thinks I'm beginning to care for him, and he doesn't want his death to hurt me. Would it? Do I? Either way, he's the one with a death sentence, and he doesn't want it to hurt_ me.

"I don't know… what this is, honestly. Maybe I'm just infatuated with you. But you… don't worry about what your absence will do to me," she said, and his eyes changed. "Worry about what your _presence_ does," she said, leaning onto her toes and kissing him hard.

It took him a moment to give in, but when he did, he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her body against his with force. She wrapped her left leg around him, running it up his thigh as she moved her kisses to his neck.

She wasn't sure when she tore the rest of his clothes off, or when he did the same to her. She didn't remember when he dropped her onto the bed, or when he lowered himself on top of her. She didn't recall him removing her gold ear cuffs with his teeth, or the claw marks she put in his chest. All she saw were his blood red eyes and the soft touch of black feathers.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"I want to see you fly," Eries said with conviction, and Folken could feel her looking at him out of his periphery.

The brilliant orange and red sunset hovered to his right, slicing through the blue of the ocean as it reflected. He was thankful that she enjoyed walking the city alongside him. It calmed his nerves.

"No," he replied flatly, looking down at the beach before him. "No you don't. It's been very difficult for me to keep my feet on the ground… to not take to the sky, my eyes on that horizon, and just… fly into it. To _not_ be a coward. To not abandon my responsibilities, to not abandon my… brother. Facing his malice is much more difficult. It would be so easy…"

He paused, taking in a breath of the ocean air and peering out over its endless expanse. "You don't want me to do that. If I take off, I may not come back down."

She nodded, working her fingers into his. "I suppose I can relate," she said, her fingers closing around his. It felt secure—something he didn't know he could still recognize.

"After Marlene died, and the burden of the throne fell on me… I nearly drowned."

Folken turned his head to face her, and he was sure his shock was evident on his features.

"I… was distraught about Marlene, but father and his dignitaries just piled all this… responsibility on me. Looking back, I realize that trying to distract himself with work was father's way of coping. But at the time, I thought he was distant, and the throne was all he cared about. Her body wasn't even cold, and he was planning the succession, planning… marriages. Diplomacy. _Politics._ "

Eries paused, clearing her throat of emotion. Folken tightened his hand on hers in support.

"That night, I got out of bed, and ran… here, to this very beach," Eries said, pausing her stride and dragging her bare foot through the wet sand. "I've always loved the sea. Mother used to jest that I could swim before I could stand. And I… stared out at it; the way it moved, the way the moon reflected from the horizon all the way to my very feet. And I just walked in. And kept walking. Luckily one of the castle guards had seen me running through the streets, and roused my father. But it had taken them a long time to find me. I swam so far out they had to use a guymelef to retrieve me. And I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. It's what… spurred my thoughts on denying the crown."

Eries seemed bashful, as if she was wishing she hadn't told him.

"I understand. Really," he said, clutching at her hand once more. "I've considered it _many_ times since coming here. "Not… not so much, since I… we…"

His words failed him. ' _Since I slept with you'_ felt too detached. As if sex was all this was to him. Her companionship, her kindness was much more valuable. But he couldn't think of how to say it.

She smiled, and somehow he could see that she understood. She broke her hand from his, wandering slowly into the surf. She waded to her knees, the lapping water soaking her dress. She turned back to him, and his heart nearly leapt into his throat.

The ocean breeze had picked up her long blonde hair, sending it in front of her shoulders in gentle waves that mimicked the ones at her knees. The setting sun was placed almost perfectly behind her, illuminating her slender, perfect frame as a silhouette through her lilac dress. The fabric drank up the ocean, deepening in color and clinging to her legs as it danced back and forth with the water.

Folken felt a very sudden, animalistic urge to throw her to the sand, to consume her like the waves.

He cleared his throat to rid himself of the thoughts, averting his eyes from her beauty. He stared instead at the waters before him, watching as they leapt up to his bare feet and retreated.

"How many people have seen your wings?" she asked, and he couldn't help but look back up at her, knowing it would sting him.

It did, but he focused on her question, trying very hard to ignore how breathtaking she was.

"Well…" he began, thinking. He hadn't actually counted before, but his mother had been very strict about letting others see them. And he had adopted that caution as his own.

"You. Mother, father. Van. Hitomi. Naria and Eriya. And Rina, the first girl I…"

His voice caught as the memory of his first intimate experience surfaced. He recalled his debilitating nerves; the awkward, fearful caresses. He felt his cheeks redden, and he looked away from Eries, trying to control his reaction and failing.

"Your… _your first?!"_ Eries said, a grin in her voice.

He still refused to look at her, his face still hot. "I… lost control of them. I learned very quickly how to keep that from happening, but… not before… her…"

He finally looked at her, and found only amusement and sly satisfaction on her face. "Looks like I need to up my game, as it were," she said, to which he felt himself blush.

He smiled, feeling bashful for the first time in a long time. "Don't take it personally. I'm very good at controlling them now."

She grinned wider, a mischievous twist to it. "Sounds like a challenge," she said.

"Alright, that's enough, I don't have any more blood to send to my face," he said, and she laughed hard. She held a hand out to him, beckoning him into the surf with her.

With a sigh, he waded into the water with her, reveling in the feel of the warm waters as they soaked his clothing, the soft sand beneath his feet. She took his hand, looking up at him, her eyes very serious all of a sudden.

"There's… there's another reason I denied the succession," she said, suddenly looking very nervous. He took both her hands in his, always mindful of the strength of his metal hand on hers. She seemed afraid suddenly, and he couldn't figure out how to show her that nothing she could say would affect him in the slightest. So he resorted to giving her his silent attention.

She looked up at him, her hands tightening on his. "I… I can't…" she sniffed, taking a forced and stressed breath. "I can't have children."

Many feelings coursed him at once, namely— _what kind of life makes a woman this afraid to say that? She must have been raised since birth to feel that her sole purpose in life was to bear children, to bear kings. But why is she telling me? She can't possibly think that… that's what I want. That would be a terrible idea. We'll never marry, this won't even last…_

"You're certain?" he asked, brushing a hand through her hair gently.

She grinned nervously. "Our bodies tell us things, do they not?" she asked, leaning close and wrapping her hand around him to run it down his back. Directly over the spot his black wings protruded from.

He nodded slightly, removing his left hand from hers and cupping her face. She relaxed against him, smiling at his reaction.

"Why would that matter to me?" he asked, running his fingers into her hair and brushing her bangs from her eyes.

"I don't know, I just… I've always felt that, always _seen_ that… royal ladies are meant to have children. They are meant to beget heirs, and when they can't… what are they good for?" she choked, her anxiety escaping in a stressed breath.

He was beginning to understand her much better. He had previously thought that she was an extremely confident, powerful woman, who commanded respect and authority. And, while she still was all of those things, they concealed the scared, self-conscious woman who hid behind them.

"You've been providing tact and strategy to Asturia's military and government for four years, and you dare ask me what you're good for? You are here to make your country and your family strong. No one ever said that children were a requirement of that. And any man who tells me the sole purpose of women is to bear children, will answer to _this,_ " he finished, raising his metal hand and balling it into a fist.

Eries gasped out a nervous giggle, obviously taken aback by his response.

"How many people know this?" Folken asked, wondering at the significance of her having told him.

She paused, her eyes going blank before they softened, finding his. "You… and me," she said with finality.

He almost stumbled away from her. "Your father… your sister… they don't know?"

She nodded 'no,' bashfully looking away from him. "I felt… like less of a woman. I was ashamed, and I… didn't want them to… think of me that way."

Folken suddenly felt the burden of that information. She didn't trust her family with information that she had just offered to him. She knew that it would mean nothing to him, mean nothing for _them._ Their time was limited. But she told him anyway.

He smiled, running his hand up her neck once more, cupping her head gently and bringing her lips to his. She kissed him back hard, the stress of her divulgence making her forceful and hungry for him.

He pulled his lips from hers, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, returning his lips to hers.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Eries stood in the library, aimlessly wandering the walls of books. She had read almost all of them at some point, but occasionally she went back for her favorites. Currently, she found herself looking for every History her father had collected on the myths of Atlantis, and the Draconians who resulted.

She didn't know if what she told Folken was true—if it was just lust. Perhaps it had started that way—when she first saw him, walking down the hall to ask Asylum of the council.

But to admit she didn't care for him would be a lie, and she was beginning to worry that she was committing the same mistakes Marlene and Millerna had made—falling for someone she couldn't have. Were the women in her family just destined to suffer in love?

She huffed, pulling an old children's tale on Draconians from the shelves. She remembered her mother reading it to them—it was archaic and biased, and the moral was to tell children that Draconians were to be avoided at all costs.

She flipped through the pages, looking on the images with a new light. Every one pictured had magnificent white wings, but the biased depiction had them looking mean and ill-tempered. Eries closed it, returning it to the shelf with slight disgust. _Whoever wrote the book must not have known any Draconians._ _I've met two, and they are both valiant, brave souls._

"There you are, sister," Millerna's voice interrupted her silence.

Eries turned, finding Millerna approaching and looking confused. "I haven't seen you in several days. Where have you been?"

The images flooded Eries' mind, and she hoped her cheeks did not redden. She turned back to the books, hoping to disguise it if they did.

"All this commotion, with the raiding party, and the defector… I've just felt ill-at-ease," she lied. She hated lying to her sister. "I've been in my room a lot."

"Oh," Millerna replied, and it seemed like she knew she was being lied to. She didn't press the matter, though.

"I'm worried too," Millerna said, aimlessly looking at the books as well, but more to distract herself. "Allen and Van are to accompany the leaders to Rampant. They want to have them just in case they are ambushed."

Eries turned to face her. She understood her worry—if the alliance was ambushed, two men would not hold off Zaibach. And it would mean their deaths. Allen's… and Van's.

"There's nothing we can do about it," Eries said sadly. "But I'm sure Zaibach has no idea about the rendezvous at Rampant."

 _Another lie._

Millerna sighed. "I just… I know that Dryden is my husband, and I… I have no right to worry for Allen in this way, but… I just don't want him to get hurt."

She would usually chastise her sister for thinking of another man. But she didn't have the heart. Not today.

"Such is the burden of a lady, little sister," Eries said with a sigh. "We must stay behind, playing sentry to nothing but our own hearts as they parade off to war. To valor. And for what? Another battle won, someone else's husband, someone else's brother killed in the name of our victory? Some other woman's heart crushed. But we celebrate, because it wasn't ours."

Millerna looked at her genuinely, obviously taken aback by the emotion in Eries' words.

"Beautifully spoken, milady."

She knew that voice. She would know that voice if every man, woman, and child in Asturia were speaking at once. It sent a shiver down her spine, down to the scratch marks she now bore on her hips and thighs.

She turned slowly, finding him approaching with several books.

"Just returning the ones I borrowed," he said, bowing to Millerna. "Hello, Princess."

"Hello, Lord Folken," Millerna said, simultaneously curtsying and taking a step away from him.

 _Oh, yes. She's still afraid of him… partly my fault._

"Did you enjoy them?" Eries asked as she took the books from him. He let his fingertips run across the back of her hand as she did, and she had to fight off the shiver.

 _Don't do that to me in front of my sister,_ she thought with anxiety.

"Not really," he said in a monotone. "But I wasn't really reading them; just using them as a distraction. As you said, this war business, it's… taxing."

Eries nodded, beginning to replace the books on the shelf.

"How goes your work on the engine?" she asked, not facing him. She could tell Millerna was curious as to why her older sister seemed to converse so easily with him.

"Slow, but I am… optimistic," he said, stepping to Eries' right and looking up at the wall of books. "Isn't it strange how so much knowledge can be stored in such a small space?"

He reached up with his left hand, taking another from the fourth shelf and studying it. He grinned with approval, shoving it under his arm.

"Ladies," he said as he turned to leave.

Standing on Eries' right, he was partially hidden from Millerna's view, and he used that opportunity to graze Eries' lower back with all five metal fingers.

Eries' eyes widened, but she managed to control her reaction otherwise. She looked at him as he walked away, giving him as much reprimanding as she could disguise in her glare.

When he had exited, Millerna stomped forward. "What…was… _that?_ " she asked wildly.

"What was what?" Eries asked as innocently as she could. She avoided her sister by continuing to shelve the books.

" _That!"_ Millerna gasped, a hand gesturing to the space Folken had vacated. "The looks, and the tension, and the… touching…"

 _Oh Gods, she saw it._

 _"Eries, did you lie with him?!"_ Millerna gasped.

Eries whipped around to face her sister, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her close violently. " _Keep your voice down. Do you know what would happen if father knew?! I would be disgraced like a common whore, and he would be executed."_

Millerna completely disregarded the warning for the confession. "Oh Gods, you did!" she whispered, and Eries bowed her head, sighing deeply. "What were you thinking?! Why would you… _what were you thinking?"_ Millerna huffed, this time keeping her voice almost inaudible.

"I should think it's pretty clear I _wasn't_ thinking," Eries said, shelving the last book. "Millerna, you cannot tell a soul. I don't care if it's your _horse._ You cannot say a word; even if you think you're alone. Someone will hear, they always do."

Millerna stumbled back with the weight of her sister's admission, slumping into the nearest chair.

"Why must the women of this family always love someone they're not supposed to?" Millerna said absently. "Are we cursed?"

"I never used the word 'love'," Eries said quickly, looking down at her sister with a grin.

Something changed then in Millerna's features; like she knew something Eries herself was unaware of.

"Nevertheless, I had the same thought," Eries continued. "I suppose wild runs in the family."

Millerna smiled a wide, toothy grin. She was obviously happy to be finally having an honest, open conversation with her elder sister. Eries appreciated it too. She had burdened her sister with so much responsibility as of late that they hadn't talked _as sisters_ in a very long time.

"So?" Millerna asked, leaning forward in her chair.

Eries looked at her, unsure what she was asking.

" _How was it?!"_ Millerna asked with a wicked smile.

"Oh, Millerna!" Eries gasped, grabbing a book and tossing it at her sister playfully.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 _"I'm afraid, mother."_

 _Varie smiled, pushing Folken's hair from his eyes. She did not speak._

 _"I just… when I think about the dragon, my sword-hand shakes. How am I… supposed to…"_

 _"If you feel unprepared, I can arrange for Balgus to work with you more," she said, continuing to run a hand over his hair affectionately._

 _"It's not that," Folken said, picking at the pommel on his sword. "If it was an army of men, I would feel prepared to take every single one of them on. Men don't frighten me…"_

 _"They should," Varie said, an air of harshness to her voice. "Men are unpredictable, fear-driven beasts. I got lucky with your father… with Fanelia."_

 _She paused, her grief forcing it. "Dragons are just animals, my sweet," she said. "They are motivated by survival. Because of that, they behave predictably—they defend their food, they defend their territory, and they defend their young. Men… the motivation of men can change in an instant—things that were once important are forgotten for new ends. Their fear creates irrationality, and that can form rampaging, mindless creatures."_

 _Folken took a deep breath, his whole body shaking._

 _"But that is when men are overcome by their fear—let it rule them. When they cast off their fear, take control of it, they are incredible, caring, wondrous miracles. They can do anything, when free of fear."_

 _Varie inched herself closer, pulling Folken into a tight embrace. "Please don't let your fear control you," she whispered, holding him tighter than she ever had. "Fear blinds us, and you cannot afford to be blinded. It's alright to be afraid—it means you have something to lose. But use it, don't let it use you."_

 _Folken wrapped an arm around his mother, his fears showing him the worst outcome he could think of—him, never returning. Varie's grief doubling at the loss of her husband and her first born in the span of a month. And Van…_

 _Folken choked back a sob, pulling away from his mother and raising a hand to his mouth. He tried to stop, but couldn't. His breathing intensified to a pant as his panic took hold. Van would be alone… the sole heir to Fanelia. Just waiting to come of age and face the same fate his brother had…_

 _"Shhhh…" Varie cooed, wiping his tears away, her own threatening to fall. She took his hands in her own. They shook violently, but she held them tight._

 _"Close your eyes," Varie said, and he obliged. "Now take a deep breath."_

 _He did, but it was shaky._

 _"And another," she said, and he took another, this time managing to calm a bit._

 _"Now picture the lake on Ryven hill, where you and Van go fishing."_

 _He nodded, finding the memory in his mind._

 _She began humming the Fanelian lullaby. She sang only half of it, then continued on._

 _"Feel the sunlight, the breeze as it blows in over the surface. Hear the birds, Van's laughter. See yourself in the grass, waiting as your brother frolics in the waters. See me, sitting beside you. You—king of all Fanelia."_

 _Folken opened his eyes, finding his mother's looking back at him with burning intensity._

 _"That image will be waiting for you, here," she said, clutching his hands harder. "Keep it. Use it."_

 _He nodded as Balgus approached._

 _"Are you ready, my Prince?" Balgus asked with stern passivity._

 _Folken looked at the determination in his mother's eyes, and nodded. He stood, sheathing his sword. "Yes."_

Folken blinked the memory from his mind, his remorse threatening to overwhelm him. The sun was setting on Asturia, but the stone passageways still held the warmth of the sunlight. The recovery efforts from Naria and Eriya's attack were coming along nicely, but there were still collapsed stone walls and scaffolding in places.

Folken meant to return to the hangar and continue his work on the engine, but his mind was wandering as of late. He knew it had something to do with Eries—becoming attached to someone.

His mind kept returning to those he'd been close to in the past. Varie, Van, Naria, Eriya…

It never ended well. He was beginning to wonder if the tales were true— _Draconians really are bad omens. I am._

He paused in the courtyard, the fountain before him sparkling under the rising moons. The girl Hitomi entered at a run, coming to a stop before the fountain and catching her breath. She straightened, peering up at the sky… at the Mystic Moon.

Folken studied her for a moment. This girl was a complete mystery—she had caused Zaibach a great amount of strife. It seemed she was capable of changing fate all on her own. And her relationship with Van… it was odd. It wasn't like Van to be so attached to someone so strange and foreign. Perhaps…

"Do you miss your homeland?" he asked, stepping from the alley and into the courtyard. She turned, catching her breath.

"Oh, Folken," she said, seeming taken aback but not afraid. When Folken had met Van in the rubble of Fanelia, she had been… an ally, of sorts. Van had come with anger in his heart, set on killing his brother and exacting his revenge. But this girl… she had suggested Van pause and hear Folken out. _Why._

"Yes, every day," she said, looking back up at the Mystic Moon. "But I… I'm attached to Gaea now. I like it here, I like the people here. And… I just want peace for everyone."

Folken smiled, approaching as she took a seat on the edge of the fountain. "Me too, Hitomi," he said genuinely.

She looked up at him, confusion and doubt in her eyes.

He sighed as he studied her. She was so pure, in an almost Godly way. She seemed to see things from all sides—to want everyone to see them as she did.

"You came to my defense in Fanelia… with Van," he said, unsure if he was asking or telling. He still wasn't sure why she had even done such a thing.

"Well, I… Van has this way of rushing into things, without thinking. And I didn't want him doing something he'd regret…"

She said it with fondness, and Folken began to wonder… _does she…_

"I see," he replied, waiting for her to continue.

"I just… thought I oughtta straighten things out between you two, that's all," she said, somewhat dejectedly.

"Van never changes, does he?" Folken asked affectionately. His younger brother had always been hard-headed like that. He would get ideas in his head, and it was very difficult to sway him.

Hitomi sighed. "I only wish that I could get him to understand…" she said, looking down at her feet and tapping them together aimlessly.

 _To understand… understand what? What does she think she knows about me… about Van? And why does she care so much, she doesn't know me… I tried to abduct her… I sent Naria and Eriya after her…_

He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Why aren't you scared of me?" he asked frankly, and she looked up at him. "I'm the one who sent the luck soldiers, made them try to kidnap you."

She thought for a moment. "I can't say I'm okay with it… but… if I were scared of you, then you'd be on your guard, right? I don't want to do that. If you don't trust people, then they don't trust you."

Folken's eyes widened in shock. She reminded him very much of his mother in that moment. But it was a dangerous mindset for her—she was Zaibach's target just as much as he was. And she needed to protect herself.

"Hitomi… do you understand that… seeking refuge here just may be part of my plot?" he asked, testing her.

Instead of reacting with fear, she simply smiled. "Even if it were, I'm very sure that you would return that trust, Folken. It might not be that apparent, though."

 _So that's your power…_

Her words struck him. She had no reason to trust him. In fact, she had more reason to distrust him than anyone. It was naïve of her, but… she had faith in him. His mind went to Eries, who had also seemed to disregard her fear in the hopes of finding trust. Folken was slightly overwhelmed by the both of them. He hadn't felt true humanity in such a long time that it was foreign to him.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Several days passed, and Palas was as peaceful and quiet as ever. The meeting at Rampant was set, and Allen and Van had received dispatch orders to escort the caravan. Folken felt a twisting uneasiness about it. He wanted to wish his brother well. He was painfully aware that Van now had a target on his back. He was Folken's brother, a personal tie to one of Zaibach's very recent, very real wounds—a traitor. But… Folken knew that Van wouldn't want to speak to him. Van was still angry, as expected. But if something were to happen, and he never spoke to Van again… he would never forgive himself.

Eries came to him every night. Sometimes they walked the gardens together, sometimes they talked, sometimes they…didn't. He knew he shouldn't let himself care for her, but couldn't stand to turn her away; partly because he didn't want to hurt her, but mostly because he wasn't sure he could.

Folken sighed, beginning to whistle the Fanelian lullaby to himself as he looked up at the Zaibach engine before him. The lullaby echoed and bounced across the empty walls of the hangar. The song was so engrained in his mind that he didn't even have to try to remember the notes—it just came naturally. And it always helped to calm his nerves.

He leaned down to the desk before him, writing a few notes with his left hand.

"No one's around," a voice echoed around the hangar. A familiar, very welcome voice. "Why don't you use your right?" she asked, and he heard the clicking of her shoes as she approached behind him.

He did not turn, instead electing to look up at the waning sky above the open hangar.

"Habit," he replied quietly. "I learned a long time ago to use my left, even when I think that I'm alone. Prying eyes are everywhere. And I… well, you're aware," he said, turning only his head over his shoulder to look at her. "I prefer to hide it. More from myself than others."

She approached, her hand resting on his right shoulder and massaging the sore muscles. It was painful, but more the kind of pain that came with relief.

He winced, grinding his teeth.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" she asked, her hand pausing.

"Yes, but… it's a good pain," he said, blinking away the grimace. "Please don't stop."

She stepped closer, leaning against his back and continuing to run her hand over his shoulder. It was vulnerable, perfect, close; an overwhelming assault of emotions he had not experienced… since Fanelia. _She_ was. Every time he was around her, she… she felt like home.

He took a deep breath, lowering his head and closing his eyes. _This is dangerous. I shouldn't… let myself care about her. Let her care about me. My time is short, and it will only hurt both of us._

"You must have been so lonely in Zaibach," she said against his back, her free hand wrapping around his chest and holding him close against her.

The memory of Naria and Eriya attacked him again. They had no loyalty to Zaibach whatsoever—but their devotion to their savior was absolute. No matter what he asked of them, they obliged: training as Zaibach warriors, learning to pilot Guymelefs… _Injecting themselves with luck serum. Dying for him._

He stiffened, his sorrow forcing him out of his calm. His breath caught, and his eyes snapped open.

Eries obviously felt him tense. She pulled away, walking around him to lean against the desk and look him in the face. He stared blankly at his desk, trying to regain his composure.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, taking a deep breath and trying to force the thoughts of them away. He didn't need to burden Eries with yet another one of his tortures.

She grinned, sliding across the edge of the desk to place herself in front of him, making it impossible to look anywhere but her eyes. They were worried, kind, and powerful.

"I may not have known you very long, but I know enough to know you're upset about something. Was it… what I said? Because we don't have to talk," she said with a smile, and he felt her leg begin to run up his thigh. "I can only assume that personal connections were rare in Zaibach," she continued, her leg continuing up his.

He stared at her, showing her that she would have to try harder to break his resolve.

"Needs of the mind more commonly assaulted me than needs of the body," he said flatly.

She maneuvered her leg between his, running it all the way up his inner thigh.

"Maybe you weren't assaulted by the _right needs,_ " she said, pressing against him.

He couldn't help the grin that spread his lips. "Unless you want me to take you right here on this desk, I would stop that if I were you."

She grinned, wrapping both legs around him and pulling him closer. "Maybe that's what I wanted," she said with a wicked smile and bite of her lip.

He nodded 'no,' stepping away from her, despite everything in his body and mind screaming not to.

"Trust me, you don't," he said. "I really… _really_ don't want to stop you, but… not here."

She sighed, nodding as she pushed away from the desk. She looked up at the engine.

"That song… the one you were whistling… what was it?" she asked.

Folken's heart leapt into his throat. Telling her meant revisiting thoughts of his mother, Fanelia, Van, Naria and Eriya. All things he was trying to keep himself away from, for the sake of his own sanity.

"It's..." Folken swallowed a lump in his throat. "It's a Fanelian lullaby. My mother used to sing it to Van and me as children."

He looked down at the floor as images flooded his mind despite his efforts: Varie humming quietly to him to comfort him after a particularly bad fall from his horse as a boy. The soothing tones she whispered as she handed Folken his baby brother for the first time. The last time she ever sang it, as he left Fanelia to face the dragon.

The weight of it hit him like a blade. He felt a heaviness on his chest, and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth and trying to push it all away.

Eries rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his head down against her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was so personal..."

"Don't apologize," he said quietly, reveling in the feel of her embrace. "You've nothing to apologize for. I do. That's what is so upsetting. Not you."

Folken's mind continued to race. He hadn't allowed himself to give in to his regrets—knew they would overwhelm him. But as he grew closer to Eries, thoughts of those close to him in the past kept resurfacing.

Eries pulled away from him, looking him in the eyes. He nodded, trying to persuade her that he was okay. It was a lie, but it seemed to convince. She backed away, leaning against the desk again.

"The last ones to know that song were Naria and Eriya," he said, taking a deep breath.

"The cat-girls?" Eries asked. He wasn't sure how she knew them, or how much she knew. But there wasn't judgement in her voice, only curiosity.

"Yes. They were... they were so much to me, and I never admitted it. I never told them. I... I knew they were in love with me and... I used it. How... _how sick is that?_ I used their love for me to keep them with me. Part of it was duty to Zaibach, but mostly they... they kept me sane. I didn't know if I could function without them, without someone by my side. So I used them..."

He paused, thinking of them; their playful competition with each other, their smiles and eagerness to please him. To make him happy.

"I remember when I knew. When it was clear to me... how much they cared for me. They were eight when I found them, but even then they were mature beyond their years—no doubt a consequence of witnessing atrocities no child should.

"When I was twenty-two, I suffered some kind of... psychosis. One of my nightmares was particularly... vivid. And I was stuck in it. No one could wake me. Dornkirk called on his sorcerers, his alchemists. One of them was able to wake me..."

He paused, his dread forcing him to swallow another lump in his throat. "He approached me from the right. To this day, I don't understand why he did that. He was part of the team that gave me this..."

He looked down at his skeletal right hand.

"So he should have known. When I woke, I wasn't... myself. I couldn't decipher between reality and nightmare. I don't remember any of this; it was just... told to me much later. All I remember was feeling like I was back in the jaws of the dragon. And I... I grabbed him by the throat. With this..."

He looked down at his now trembling metal hand. "When I'm awake, I can ensure I don't use its full power. Uninhibited, it has the strength of a guymelef. And..."

He paused, looking off into the hangar. _Why am I even telling her this? Do I want her to think I'm a monster?_

"I killed him instantly. Crushed his windpipe, all the way to the spine. And then I just... held him. His corpse, hanging from my fist, and I..."

He paused, his own horror creeping back and forcing him to look at Eries. He expected disgust, fear, or at the very least, judgement. He found nothing of the sort. She was concerned, staring at him quietly and waiting for him to continue.

"Dornkirk called for his best warriors. I believe that... if I didn't wake from my episode, he was going to kill me. To avoid further loss of numbers. And for good reason... in that state, I don't know what I would have been capable of.

"Naria and Eriya fought their way into my room. Eriya took out the guards and Naria came for me. She wasn't afraid. She leapt onto the bed, forcing me to look at her. And she sang that song. No one else knew it, no one... paid attention. But the girls did. I sang it to myself almost every day. And she learned it, knew it. She pulled me back, she... she even knew that I would be horrified with myself, so she forced me to look at her while the alchemists removed the body. She was eleven. _Eleven years old_. And the way she looked at me then..."

He looked up, staggering back as he found the same look facing him.

He felt like he had been kicked in the chest. In Eries' face, he could see Naria's, Eriya's, Varie's... Van's. Everyone he had broken.

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a panic rising in his lungs. Every time he began to care for someone, every time he let his guard down—somehow it turned sour.

"I can't... I can't do this," he tried to catch his breath, feeling like he was being constricted.

"Do... what?" Eries asked, standing straight and taking a step toward him.

He backed away from her, nodding incoherently. "This, us, you... me. I... "

He felt his breath leave him, like he'd been winded. He whipped around, heading for the exit.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Eries watched as Folken's state devolved quickly. He seemed to be overcome, his breaths ragged and his hands shaking. He turned away from her, walking toward the hangar's exit.

Eries ran after him. She grabbed his right arm to stop him, knowing there was a smaller chance of him yanking away from her with his right, because he wouldn't want to hurt her.

She was right. He stopped walking, allowing her to halt him. She rushed in front of him, finding only pure panic in his eyes.

"I destroyed them, Eries. I destroyed Naria and Eriya. They wanted nothing but to please me, and I caused their deaths. And my mother... she went after me when I disappeared. And she... she left Van alone. I destroy peoples' lives, Eries. That's what I do. That's what _I am._ And I can't... not to you. I can't do that to you..."

Eries grasped him on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her.

"You won't," she said forcefully. "You keep worrying about everyone else. The girls, your mother, Van. You're so worried about what you did to them. You felt obligated to Zaibach because they saved your life. You felt obligated to give Van a better future, because you couldn't do it as his king. You feel obligated to suffer for what happened to Naria and Eriya. But you don't think about yourself. You're worried because you know you're dying, and you know it will hurt me. And it will, I'm not going to lie to you. But you think it's your job to protect me from that pain. You feel _obligated. Stop. Stop feeling obligated to anyone but yourself._ You think you were the only one that was lonely, Folken Fanel? I'm here... with you... because I want to be. No one's forcing me to stay. And if I spend all this time trying to fix a broken man, only to lose him, then so be it. At least I was able to ease some of his suffering in the time that I had. To me, that's... that's not wasted time. Just... stop thinking about everyone else, and just... live. Because I..."

Eries' heart leapt into her throat. _Gods, I almost said I love you. Is that true? If it is, should I say that? Will it scare him away?_ _Does he even know how to accept that?_

She let her words trail off, growing silent. She looked up at him slowly, finding intensity and sudden calm in his features. His breaths were even and measured, and he seemed to have control of himself once more.

He didn't respond. He simply wrapped his left arm around her back, pulling her to him and kissing her so passionately it left her breathless. He cupped her cheek with his metal hand, and she reached up to lay hers against it. He pulled her so close that her feet lifted from the ground momentarily.

The passion of it made her see spots, made her feel like she was spinning.

"Eries… Eries!"

Folken tensed upon Millerna's voice as it approached, releasing Eries and stepping away bashfully. He bowed his head away from Millerna, standing dutifully silent. Eries had begun to notice that within Folken, there were two men—the man he was when he was with her was confident and charismatic, with a kind of calm cockiness about him. When others were present, he was quiet, shy, and observed a kind of prisoner-esque obedience. It was the same man that felt obligated to preen the emotions of everyone around him. The same man that feared letting himself get close to anyone. Eries felt a desperate urge to yank him back into her arms, Millerna be damned.

She raised a hand, resting it gently on the side of his neck. She ignored the minor panic in his eyes.

"It's alright, Folken," she said calmly. "She knows."

This did little to quell Folken's doubt. He looked up at Millerna momentarily, and if anything, he seemed even more worried that Millerna knew. Eries forced herself to turn, finding her sister in the doorway, looking frantic but a bit giddy. As if conflicted by what she was seeing.

"What is it, sister?" Eries asked, rubbing her temple as the vertigo of Folken's kiss slowly wore off.

"The landing party… at Rampant… they were ambushed," Millerna said anxiously. Folken spun to face her.

"Van?" he asked worriedly.

"Van and Allen are alright. They're on their way back. Rampant was… completely destroyed," Millerna said, wringing her hands. "They want to speak with both of you, about… what to do next."

Eries nodded, looking at Folken. He seemed as vulnerable as she felt—as if, despite the war, despite the precarious situation, he could simply return to her, and forget all of it, if only for a little while.

She swallowed hard, nodding to Millerna and turning to follow. Folken trailed to her left obediently, his eyes downcast. Eries walked silently, but rested a hand on his back as she walked. She welcomed the cold metal of his arm as it intermittently brushed her side. In fact, she was starting to feel empty without it.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

As they walked, a pillar of light appeared on the city's southwest side. Uneasiness spread through Eries, and she found it reflected in Folken's dark eyes.

"You don't think… could that be Zaibach?" Millerna asked, stopping.

Eries, too, turned to face him. His eyes were downcast and his shoulders were low with disappointment.

"I don't… I don't think so," he said, unsure. "Dornkirk cannot yet control the pillars of light, only predict them. But… if it was…"

He seemed resolved to the fact that he would be one of their first targets.

Defiance rose in Eries' heart. "Come with me. You too, Millerna," she said with force, grabbing Folken by his left hand and marching down the nearest alley toward old man Bishop's Bakery.

"Wait… you're not…." Millerna asked as she jogged to keep up.

"I am," Eries said. "If they are on their way here, then they cannot see him."

The caverns beneath Palas were all but forgotten. The entrances had been sealed and boarded up long ago for security purposes, but the caverns were still intact. Marlene had used a very specific one to sneak from the castle to meet Allen.

Eries did not knock, nor did she announce their entrance as she barged into the bakery.

"Princess!" Bishop gasped with shock, bowing as quickly as his old bones would allow.

"No time to explain, sir," Eries said, leading Folken to the stairs and descending them.

The old man used the basement for storage, but the boarded-up north wall remained uncovered.

Eries dropped Folken's hand and approached the wall. Several layers of boards were tightly nailed to the wall, and they didn't budge. Eries yanked on them as hard as she could, but they didn't even creak.

Eries cursed, stepping back to observe them. Millerna stood to her right, looking just as puzzled.

The cool metal of Folken's hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to find him stepping past her. He looked worriedly at Millerna as he pulled the drape from his arm.

 _He's worried he'll frighten Millerna._

Eries looked to her sister, but instead of fear, she found curiosity and bewilderment.

With astonishing power, he wrapped his skeletal fingers around the top of a board, ripping it easily off the wall. The wall it was nailed to groaned and gave way, bricks and stone falling at Folken's feet. The timing was horribly inappropriate, but the sheer strength he displayed made Eries giddy in all the wrong places, images of what he could do with that power assaulting her mind.

Folken dropped them and stepped away, something akin to disgust in his features as he looked first at his hand, then back at Millerna.

Eries did not look to her sister. Instead, she stepped up to Folken, placing a hand on his cheek.

"She trusts me," she said, trying to bring the confidence back to his crimson eyes. "I'm not afraid of you, so she's not either."

He nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Come," Millerna said with haste, and Eries turned to find her sister crawling over stones and boards through the gaping hole.

Eries grabbed a lantern from the wall, beckoning Folken. He hesitated, his eyes changing as he looked back at her.

The caverns were cold and dark, but Eries knew the way by heart. The caverns mimicked the streets and walkways above, so she simply walked as though heading home from a day at the market.

The caverns led to an old, decrepit stairway that let out in the dungeons of the castle. The entrance was not boarded, as Marlene had deconstructed it years ago to get to Allen.

Eries paused before exiting, laying a hand against the entrance's left wall. Her heart sank, tears threatening to fall.

"What is it, sister?" Millerna asked, approaching.

"The last person to breach this cavern was Marlene," Eries said, images of her beautiful sister floating through her mind, her genuine smile shining as she laughed and played with her siblings.

The fact struck Millerna, too, and she laid her hand on the stone, just to Eries' left. Eries imagined her sister's hands on this very wall, her memory seeming to reach out from the stone and take both her sisters' hands in hers.

"I miss you, Marlene," Eries said, leaning forward and pressing her lips to the stone.

She forced the memory from her mind, pushing away from the wall and turning back to Folken.

They jogged through the dungeons and up the grand staircase, finding commotion in the castle. Guards ran about, yelling orders to each other. The castle servants hurried to get out of the way, retreating to their quarters.

Allen and Van entered the foyer at a run, both looking worried.

"What's happening?" Millerna asked of Allen.

"Hitomi… Hitomi is gone," Allen said, looking extremely conflicted.

"What?" Folken asked with shock.

"A pillar of light appeared and took her," Van said, not pausing his brisk walk. Eries, Folken, and Millerna followed as they headed for the council chamber. Dryden joined them, taking Millerna by the arm as he walked.

"What happened… when the pillar appeared?" Folken asked as they entered the chamber, Van pacing its lengths.

"We were… discussing the ambush at Rampant. She met us at the dock, and she was… upset. She was raving about me, about… the battle," Van said, rubbing his eyes. "She said she wanted to go home, that she was… sick of the fighting. She was… so upset."

Eries thought she could sense a hint of affection in Van's voice. She turned, finding Folken walking to the window to peer out at the now dark Asturian sky.

"I just don't understand what's going on, here," Dryden said, rubbing his temples.

"Tell me that… Zaibach…" Millerna said worriedly, obviously thinking that Zaibach could have harnessed the ability to control them, and abducted Hitomi.

"That's not possible," Folken said, continuing to stare out the window. Everyone turned to face him. "Even with Dornkirk's science…"

He turned to face them, looking only at Van. "It's not possible to create a pillar of light."

"But… where did Hitomi, go then?" Millerna asked worriedly.

Van slouched, realization dawning across his features.

"She went home," Van said quietly. "She said she wanted to go back to the Mystic Moon, so… so she… she left."

There was disappointment, regret, and anguish in Van's tone. Eries studied him, wondering…

"But… of course, this is… really good news for us, isn't it?" he said, obviously conflicted. "Zaibach can't use their Fate Alteration machine now…"

Eries looked to Folken to gauge if he thought that was true. Folken did not speak, merely looked down dejectedly at the floor. Something was different. Something was… wrong.

Gaddes burst into the room, approaching Allen at a run.

"Commander! It's the Zaibach army… they've set up a perimeter around our borders!"

Unease flooded Eries, and she looked to Folken again. He was completely unsurprised, and seemed… emotionless, almost. Beyond him, in the Asturian sky outside the window, Floating Fortresses were beginning to appear over Palas's walls.

Allen, Van, Dryden, and Millerna followed Gaddes from the room. Eries looked to Folken, finding him frozen in place, staring at the floor.

She quietly went to the door, closing them in and turning back to him. She approached, her presence doing nothing. He did not react, did not speak.

"What's wrong, Folken?" she asked, laying a hand on the side of his neck. He still refused to look at her.

"I thought about what you said," he said, his voice low, broken, and hoarse. "About… thinking about myself. What _I_ want. And I…"

His voice broke, and he closed his eyes, anguish clear in his small grimace.

"I was ready to die, Eries," he said, raising a hand and wrapping it around hers. "I wasn't afraid. I was ready for it to be over—the suffering, the pain I cause to those around me. I was ready…"

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes and looking at her. "But now… I… I'm afraid. _I want this_. And I'm afraid to lose it. I'm afraid to die, knowing what I could have had…"

Tears threatened Eries' eyes. She hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't meant for it to go this far.

She swallowed hard, running her thumb up and down the side of his neck.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I… didn't mean to…"

Words failed her. There was so much she wanted to say, but couldn't. _You knew you were going to die, you were ready to face it. And I complicated that. I've made you afraid again, that's the last thing I wanted. But… I don't want you to die. I want you to stay. But I can't tell you that, because it will only make your fear worse. And I don't want to hurt you. I just want you to have peace… perhaps for the first time. I… love you._

The tears finally fell, and Eries looked away, trying desperately to hold them back.

"I'm scared, Folken," she said, pulling her hand back and wiping her tears away quickly. "I know it's going to happen. But… _I don't want it to._ And that only makes it harder for you, and… that's not what I wanted."

He stared at her in silence for a long time. His eyes were dark and hurting, but there was a strength about it that made silence… okay.

He stepped forward, resting his hands on either side of her face and kissing her hard. There was something different about it. It was strong, powerful, and held so much more than their previous kisses.

He dropped his arms, pulled her hard against him, and spun to pin her against the wall to the right of the window. She was overcome by her desperation to take away his pain, to take away his fear. Tears fell as she kissed him frantically, ripping his clothes from his shoulders. He pulled her dress up slowly, running both his thumbs up her legs. She shivered against the feel of his metal one.

There was something different about it this time. Where before it had been about exploration and pleasure, now they were intimately aware of each other. Folken took his time, often delaying his own desire to focus on hers. She had a brief moment of hesitation before giving in to him—if someone were to walk back into the council chamber…

 _I wouldn't care. There's nothing they can do that won't inevitably happen anyway._

She lost herself with him, giving him everything she had left to give—everything she had held back to keep herself guarded against sentiment. She used her body to take away his fear, his pain, his regrets. And when he lost himself to her, his massive black wings erupted from his back, showing her once again the shattering final boundary between them.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

For the first time in a very long time, Eries was happy. And it troubled her. She knew it wouldn't last, and that, sometime soon, he would be violently ripped from her existence. But she couldn't bring herself to be depressed.

Her mind should have been elsewhere. Her sister had entered into a marriage she didn't want to be in. Zaibach's forces had surrounded Palas, forcing them into an uneasy stalemate. Her country was about to enter into a great war, and it was going to cost them dearly. Men would die. Families would shatter. And the alliance holding the rebellion together was fragile—it hinged only on their mutual opposition to Zaibach.

And Allen's long-lost sister had miraculously reappeared. In the middle of the night, in a horrid downpour. She had simply walked into her childhood home, saying nothing to Allen.

All of this, and Eries could focus on none of it.

"How I need you now, sister," she said, laying a single flower on Marlene's grave. The day was a beautiful one, a light breeze moving the grass around the cemetery. Zaibach's hovering forces on the horizon were a constant reminder of the fragile state of her entire world.

"I'm so lost," she said, stepping back and crossing her hands in front of her. She held his small black feather in her grasp, knowing she shouldn't be caught with it. "And I know you would know just what to say. I never understood your infatuation with Allen, couldn't understand it. But I do, now. Gods, I understand in a way I wish I didn't. I'm… in love with him, Marlene. And I know it won't last, but I just keep… forgetting that, for my own petty desires. And it's going to hurt both of us. There's simply no way this ends well, but… I can't…"

She paused, sniffling back a sob and pushing her blowing hair from her face.

" _What do I do, Marlene?_ " she choked.

The wind brushed her dresses, making the feather shift in her grasp. She sighed, her heart yearning for her sister's company, in more than just passing breezes.

"Hello, Princess Eries."

Eries turned, wiping her face quickly of tears and finding Allen… and Celena. Eries hid her left hand beneath the cloak she wore, keeping the feather out of sight.

"Hello, Allen," she said, watching Celena as she aimlessly stumbled forward and collapsed to her knees at a grave. Encia Schezar's grave.

"So… she really is Celena?" Eries asked as Allen approached and stood beside her.

"Yes. It's been years, but I'd recognize my sister anywhere," Allen said softly. A butterfly flitted in front of Celena, and she raised her eyes, smiling slightly as she watched it.

"My poor little sister," Allen continued, bowing his head. "She doesn't remember where she's been all this time."

"She's lost her memory?" Eries asked, turning to look at Allen. His silence was the answer she sought.

They were both quiet, watching Celena as she continued to study the butterfly.

"Princess Eries…" Allen began, something strange in his voice. "Please take care of my little sister while I'm gone. I can only trust you…"

Eries was struck by his sudden confidence in her. She found a trust akin to Folken's staring at her through Allen's eyes.

 _Is that my new burden? I am long for the crown, so now I must play caretaker to hearts?_

She softened, a small smile spreading her lips. _I suppose there are worse fates._

"Very well," she said with a nod. "She is the sister of a Knight Caeli. I'll take care of her at the palace.

Allen relaxed, obviously relieved to ensure his sister's safety.

Before either of them could respond, Celena cried out, doubling over before the grave. She began to sob uncontrollably, her entire body trembling.

Allen stepped forward, concern clear on his face. "Celena?" he asked.

She sobbed for only a moment, and as quickly as it had started, it abruptly stopped.

Celena stood, her back to Eries and Allen, looking down at her hands as if they were foreign to her.

"Are you alright, Celena?" Allen asked, reaching out toward her.

Celena whipped around to face them, but… she wasn't the same. Her face was more masculine, her eyes mad and wild. And when she spoke, she spoke with the voice of two people… like some kind of demon.

"Celena?" she asked, her voice sounding simultaneously both male and female.

Allen gasped, stepping back.

Celena looked around, fear and confusion on her features.

"Where am I?"

Her voice was now completely male, and she peered around like a spooked horse.

"What… am I doing here?"

She doubled over, grasping her head and crying out.

Allen took a step in front of Eries to protect her, his hand going to his sword.

"Are you a doppelganger?" Allen asked harshly.

The figure before them looked around madly, repeating the name Jajuka over and over.

Without warning, a violent wind picked up, and a Guymelef began to appear just beyond Encia Schezar's grave.

The wind whipped Eries hair and dresses, and she clutched the feather in her left hand unconsciously as Allen stepped further in front of her.

"Lord Dilandau," the metallic voice seeped from the Guymelef.

"Jajuka…" Celena… or whoever she was, responded.

"Dilandau?!" Allen gasped, his grip tightening on his sword.

The melef reached out and took Dilandau in its giant metal hands, tossing the invisibility cloak and beginning to disappear.

"Wait, Lord Dilandau!" Allen yelled, stepping forward. Although the melef was now completely invisible, it was clear when its engines fired. The wind whipped at Allen and Eries, and they bowed their heads to avoid the assault of dirt and debris it kicked up.

Eries straightened as the wind dissipated, looking around for any sign of the melef.

"Gods…" Allen gasped. "It can't be… Dilandau? How is that… even possible?" he whispered.

"Who… who is Dilandau?" Eries asked, stepping forward to look at Allen.

"He's one of Zaibach's Dragon Slayers, a complete madman…"

Dawning realization fell over his features, followed by anger. "He served directly under Folken. I must speak with him."

Allen violently turned, marching for the palace. Eries followed, worry rising in her heart. _Please tell me Folken had nothing to do with this…_


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one

Folken stood in the library, a creeping anxiety forcing him to stand at the window, facing away from Millerna and Dryden. Millerna's attitude toward him had changed of late, for the better. Her knowledge of his and Eries' tryst had initially made him uneasy, but he now found he was at peace with it. It was clear Millerna would not speak a word of her knowledge, and it came with the added bonus of her fear of him melting away. She trusted her sister's judgement, and thus was more comfortable around Folken.

"There are just so many," Dryden said, looking over a map of Palas's borders. "How many fortresses does Zaibach's armada boast?"

"Unfortunately, this is but a fraction," Folken said, looking to the skyline and finding many of the fortresses just waiting. For an entire day, they had simply surrounded Palas, making no moves other than to show off their might.

"This seems like a massive amount, but… there are many more in Zaibach that they can turn to, if needs be."

Dryden groaned at the information, rubbing his temples.

Before he could continue, the door burst open, Allen and Eries entering. Despite Allen's palpable display of anger, Folken's eyes went to Eries. He found himself instantly relaxed to be in her presence, despite her worried eyes.

" _Folken!_ " Allen demanded, stomping closer.

Folken found that he simply wasn't able to muster the ability to be bothered by Allen's hysterical state. He faced him calmly, waiting for an explanation to follow the wrath.

"Dilandau! Celena… _is Dilandau?!_ " Allen yelled. "Did you know about this? How is this possible, how could they even…" Allen trailed off, his anger and confusion overwhelming his words.

This information was a shock to everyone, except Folken. He of course didn't know it, but nothing Zaibach did could shock him anymore. Their dedication to their mission knew no bounds.

"Dilandau?" Folken said calmly, looking back out the window. "I'm very sorry, I don't know much about Lord Dilandau's past…"

The boy had always been a bit mad, especially when he was first assigned to the Vione… to Folken. He was young… only fifteen, but seemed tortured beyond his years. If he was Allen's sibling, then… no doubt he was another of the sorcerer's experiments. It would certainly explain his madness.

"It seems certain the sorcerers are behind him," Folken continued, turning once more to face Allen.

"Sorcerers? Allen asked, his curiosity beginning to calm him.

Folken was unable to keep his own memories of the sorcerers from his mind— _their strange, inhuman forms surrounding him as he woke to find his arm replaced with metal, his own panicked screams being slowly drowned by hypnotizing chants, their terrible and agonizing experiments to test the limits of his cybernetic arm, the blood covering Folken's metal hand as he clutched the lifeless sorcerer's corpse._

He blinked them away, feeling Eries' worried eyes on him.

"Zaibach scientists that answer only to Dornkirk," Folken explained, still feeling Eries as she watched him.

"They are a very dangerous group of men," he continued. "Rumor has it that… in order to change a person's fate, they performed experiments on live subjects."

Folken didn't feel it pertinent to tell them _how_ he knew this—his own suffering at the hands of their experiments didn't need to be known.

"They… used kidnapped children," he continued with a sigh. It had been a major doubt of Folken's for his entire stay with Zaibach—he had hated what they did with children, but… had ignored it for the sake of the ideal future he sought for Van. Had ignored it just like he ignored Dornkirk's disregard for Naria and Eriya's lives.

" _You mean Celena was…_ " Allen yelled, stepping forward. His fists balled and he ground his teeth as he stared daggers into Folken. "They experimented on _people?_ "

Folken didn't respond. He knew that no words would make Allen feel any better about it.

"Sir?" a guard asked as he stepped into the library. Folken recognized him as Aros, the young man who had guarded him upon his arrival in Palas.

The boy bowed respectfully to the group, facing Dryden.

"Our scouts saw the Escaflowne leave," he said.

Dread flooded Folken. They were surrounded by Zaibach forces, all of whom had orders to take out the white dragon. Certainly he wouldn't be so foolish…

"Where did he go?" Dryden asked.

"He… he flew into the sky, sir… we think to the Mystic Moon," Aros said.

"What?!" Millerna asked. "Is that… possible? Can a melef even survive a flight to the heavens?"

Folken thought on it. Van was going after the girl. _He must truly care for her…_

"If any mecha can survive the journey… the Escaflowne can," Folken said quietly. "And any pilot, for that matter… Van can."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two

"Zaibach has made their first move!"

"No, we're not ready! The alliance…"

"They've attacked Cesario and Deadalus on the north side…"

"He did it!"

"You can't be serious!"

"He made the flight?!"

"The men say he landed on the north side, in Cesario's 4th battalion!"

"And he brought the girl back!"

"Cesario says he has decided to stay with them, to aid them with the Ispano Guymelef!"

"He has sent the girl back to Palas. Keo, receive her at the docks…"

Folken's head ached with the stress of it all. He began to worry for his brother—he was staying with Cesario. This was likely the start of it all—Zaibach had made their first move in attacking. The alliance was cornered. Their full reinforcements had not arrived yet, but they needed to retaliate or risk Zaibach finding out just how weak their forces truly were. But retaliating without the necessary forces proved dangerous too—they could lose the entire north battalion, and men would die. _Van would die._ And Folken would never see him again. His brother would go to the grave angry with him, and he wasn't sure he could live with that.

"We simply cannot wait," Dryden said quietly. "Reassign Basram's eighth. It will weaken their hold on the east end, but… Cesario desperately needs the reinforcements. Perhaps the men can hold them off just long enough. And make sure Zaibach doesn't see them moving. If they see Basram splitting, then they will attack the east, forcing us to reassign them again. Bust open the caverns if you must. Just make sure their movement goes unnoticed."

Two men nodded, jogging from the room, their armor clanking.

Folken turned from the window, the sound of the pattering rain helping to calm his nerves.

"If I am no longer needed…" he said quietly, looking to Dryden.

Dryden watched him for a moment. "You're always needed," he said, rubbing his head. "But currently… there is nothing you can do. Nothing _any_ of us can do."

Folken bowed slightly, excusing himself. Millerna watched him as he passed, and he nodded at her.

Everything in Folken wanted to go to Eries; to forget everything, and just lose himself in her embrace. But there was work to be done, and he was becoming worryingly dependent on her. He couldn't sleep without her beside him, could barely think unless she was present. They didn't have to speak, didn't have to touch. All she had to do was be there, and he found peace.

He fought off his thoughts of her, traversing the rainy city to the hangar. The engine sat, quiet as ever, ready and waiting to help him. He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking off the thoughts of Van that replaced Eries—of the worst-case scenarios his troubled mind constantly tortured him with. He sighed, lighting several candles and peering up at the machine.

"Folken?"

He turned, finding Hitomi standing in the doorway.

He softened, his opinion of her having shifted. Before, she was the mysterious girl from the Mystic Moon with powers no one on Gaea could fathom. Now… she was the girl Van was in love with. That much was clear. He had taken to the heavens to retrieve her, risked himself and the Escaflowne just to bring her back.

"Hello Hitomi," he said, turning back and facing the machine.

"I need your help," she said, her footsteps approaching.

Folken was quiet as he waited for her to explain.

"I… want to help Van," she said quietly.

 _I was afraid of that,_ Folken thought.

"Folken, tell me how to create a pillar of light, and go to Zaibach," she begged.

Folken bowed his head, unable to respond. He knew why she wanted to go, but… she was the unknown element Dornkirk had been trying to eliminate from the start. If she went, it would likely mean her death. And Van's world would be destroyed… again.

"It's my duty to go, and see Dornkirk… and get him to stop all this fighting!" she said with force.

Folken looked up at the engine. He recalled when he had found Naria and Eriya. He had requested to keep them, and Dornkirk had refused. When he did it anyway, Dornkirk had nearly had them assassinated in their sleep. But when they had easily killed every single assassin Dornkirk sent their way, he had seen their usefulness as soldiers, and allowed them to stay. But only after he had realized their benefit to him. If it wasn't of use to him, he was never swayed.

"Dornkirk's not the type to listen to anyone," he replied solemnly. "Besides, if you were to put yourself in danger… it could hurt Van."

The realization hit him like a sack of bricks. It had to be him. They were in this mess because of him, and it was his responsibility to face it. To let the girl Van loved do it would be cowardly, and it could cost Van yet another of his loves. Van had paid enough dues in this ugly war.

"Anyway, I should be the one who confronts Dornkirk," he said, finally turning to look at Hitomi. She was taken aback, her kind eyes wide.

"A wave in tune with the fate alteration engine _should_ be able to direct a pillar of light," he said looking back up at the engine. "That is why I recovered this device from the Vione."

He recalled his statement to Allen— _'It's not possible to create a pillar of light.'_ Which was still true. But one could _direct_ an already existing one. And it was true that Dornkirk still couldn't—he needed the one Sorcerer who had mastered it. _Folken._

"I will settle this matter myself," Folken said quietly, peering up at the machine.

"Folken, you mustn't!" Hitomi murmured.

He turned to face her, finding her face flat and afraid. She had a look about her—as if she had had another of her visions. Folken wondered for a moment what she saw, but part of him already knew.


	23. Chapter 23

**Smut warning**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

 _Folken wiped the sweat from his brow as he pranced before Balgus. The Fanelian sun beat down on them, warming the sand of the training pit. Folken had disregarded his boots in order to train barefoot, enjoying the feel of the sand on his feet. It also made maneuvering slightly easier. Balgus smiled, appreciating Folken's progress._

 _"You've been practicing, my lad!" Balgus said, sidestepping and swiping at Folken again._

 _Folken wasn't able to avoid it this time, and blocked and parried a few times before disengaging from his teacher once more._

 _"I have," Folken responded, trying not to be distracted by the maidens watching and giggling from the gardens. One particular girl—Rina—had been overt with her advances lately, and Folken couldn't deny that he liked her. He knew that her presence would change how he fought Balgus, so he made an effort to ensure it wasn't for the worse._

 _Balgus lunged like a snake, and Folken had to leap back in order to block. The blades rang out as they collided._

 _"Yeah, Folken!" Van cried from his seat in the grass. "Whoop his butt!"_

 _"Van, what would mother have to say about that language?" Folken asked, half-circling Balgus and spinning the sword's hilt in his hand, unable to keep from showing off._

 _"She would agree!" Van said with a smile. His small voice traveled through the gardens, and the maidens watching smiled._

 _Folken tossed his sword between his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet._

 _"How about it, Balgus? Age catching up to you, old man?" Folken said playfully._

 _"Oh ho! Cocky brat!" Balgus roared, his smile betraying his serious tone. Balgus lunged, using a serpentine to weave left and right, testing Folken's reflexes on both sides._

 _For several strikes, Folken kept up with him, using cross guards and footwork to parry Balgus's advance._

 _But Balgus used the predictability of his left-right-left-right attacks to suddenly surprise Folken. He took a barely detectable step back, raising the sword and bringing it vertically down._

 _Folken had been prepared to block to the left, and as such, did not have enough time to adjust._

 _The blunted edge of Balgus's training sword struck Folken hard on the left shoulder. He yelped, stumbling back and clutching his shoulder. Despite the blunted edge, it still stung like a vigorous kick from a horse._

 _"That should teach you not to sass me!" Balgus said with a hearty laugh. The maidens joined him in the laughter._

 _Folken huffed, blowing his hair from his eyes._

 _Would you like to stop for water, Prince?" Balgus asked, standing up straight._

" _I'm fine, but if you need to... old man," Folken responded with a smile._

 _Balgus stepped to his left, retrieving his canteen. "You watch your mouth, unless you want a matching bruise on the other shoulder!" he said heartily, pouring his water all over his face._

 _Folken approached Van, ruffling his brother's hair as he took his own canteen from him. He chanced a glance at Rina as he drank, finding her whispering to her friends._

 _"When the time comes to slay a dragon, insults and sarcasm will not help you!" Balgus said with a smile, tossing his canteen back onto the bench beside him._

 _"I dunno, no one's ever tried, have they? And no one has quite the penchant for it that I have," Folken grinned, handing his canteen back to Van._

 _Balgus laughed, wiping his face. He stepped back into the training pit._

 _"Tell me, lad," he said, taking a ready stance. "Do you have an idol?"_

 _Folken stepped back into the pit, turning his sword over and over in his hand._

 _"Mother says idols create unrealistic expectations. But if I had to pick one... it would have to be Beric the Brave."_

 _Balgus smiled. "Tell me why," he said, lunging. Folken grunted as he blocked._

 _"Well... as a king's brother, he was not burdened by... royal duties. He could choose his... dragons, choose when to fight them," Folken responded, pausing to grunt and groan as he blocked._

 _"I hardly think lack of responsibility makes for a good hero," Balgus said, striking again._

 _"I wasn't... finished!" Folken grunted, blocking and backing away once more._

 _"I idolize him because of his sacrifice—when the dragon ate his sword, he allowed it to attack, sacrificing his left foot so that he could carve the beast's fang from its maw with a simple dagger. That allowed him to use the dagger and fang to blind the dragon."_

 _Balgus smiled, nodding._

 _"One would expect him to limp home, but he didn't stop there. He was still able to kill the dragon, terribly wounded and using only a dagger and bloody dragon's tooth. He then strapped the dragon's fang to his footless left leg, using it as a peg so that he could hobble home and deliver the energist to his brother."_

 _"I like that one too!" Van yelled past a mouth full of snacks._

 _Balgus smiled, pausing his attacks._

 _"A fine choice, my boy," Balgus said with a wide, toothy smile._

 _"How about you, Prince Van? Who's yours?" Rina yelled from the garden._

 _Folken was surprised by her interjection, but he turned to face Van, awaiting his brother's answer._

 _"Folken, of course!" Van yelled back._

Folken bolted upright in bed, feeling his cheeks cold and damp. He buried his face in his hands, wiping away the tears and emotion the dream had caused.

He suddenly felt her hand on his back, her fingers warm and gentle. It should have surprised him—when he fell asleep, she wasn't there. She hadn't come to him, just as he had not gone to her. Probably in an effort to do exactly as he was doing—staying away simply to see if he could. She must have failed; sneaking into his room sometime after he had fallen into an uneasy sleep.

"Another nightmare?" she asked quietly, sitting up next to him. She dragged the sheets with her, using them to cover herself. She leaned against him, and he was thankful she was on his left—he reveled in the feel of her warmth against his arm.

"No, it… it was a good dream, a…" he paused, looking down and seeing his hands shaking. "It was a memory. One that I… treasure. One that… will never happen again."

Eries sighed, reaching out and taking his left hand in hers. She clutched it tight, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles. The trembling persisted, however.

She released his hand, raising hers and running it through his hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying her touch.

"Your hair is getting long," she said, continuing to run her hand through it. He grinned, recalling how his mother always wanted to cut his hair.

He tried to take a deep breath, but only managed a shudder as the dream came back to haunt him. Several truths accompanied it—the war had begun. And Van had elected to stay with Cesario's north camp. Things were only going to escalate from here. And Folken had resolved himself to confronting Dornkirk. He didn't know when, or how, but he had to. It wouldn't change anything… but his selfish desires for vengeance, for retribution, for _redemption_ could not be denied. And this meant that the likelihood that he would never see Van again was very high. Van could die in battle, Folken could die facing Dornkirk and his Sorcerers—bottom line, that little boy that idolized his big brother, that _future_ was at risk.

"Shhh," Eries cooed, and Folken realized that his entire body was trembling, tears threatening again. She pulled him close, running a finger over his teardrop tattoo.

"I'm… I'm sorry I keep pushing you away," he said quietly, reaching up and taking her hand. "Truth is, I… I hurt everyone I care about. Not intentionally, but… it happens nonetheless. And I'm… _tired of it_. And I thought that by keeping you at a distance, I could keep it from happening. But again… I failed."

"No, no you haven't," she said, taking his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. "Not yet."

He stared in her eyes for a long time, finding within them the Asturian waves, the Fanelian sun, the blue shimmer of the Mystic Moon.

He smiled, finally taking a deep breath. "I've never told you how beautiful you are," he said, his eyes wandering to her high, pink cheeks, her deep crimson lips.

She grinned. "You didn't have to," she said, releasing his chin and running it through his hair again.

"Tell me something happy," she said as he closed his eyes to her touch. "A good memory... _something_."

"Why?" he asked quietly, blinking slowly as he leaned his head against her hand.

She dropped her fingers a bit, running her thumb over the tattoo on his cheek.

"So many tears," she said. "So much sadness. I just want to know that... there was happiness in there once."

"There's happiness now," he mumbled, grinning and enveloping her hand in his.

"You know what I meant," she replied with a smile.

"Yes, but that's the problem with looking back on the good ones. The knowledge that I ruined them has stained them, and it haunts me," he said somberly.

"Don't say that. You talk like you did all this on purpose—you didn't. You were dealt a bad hand, and you tried to fix it the only way you knew how. Gods, by many standards, you were still just a boy. What man is prepared to lead a country at sixteen, much less fight and slay a dragon alone? Things went sour, but not by your doing. You were just... _alone_."

He felt like his heart leapt into his throat and did backflips. For years he had felt responsible for the destruction of his country, his family. And no one had ever told him he wasn't. He smiled genuinely, narrowing his eyes at her in shock.

"What?" she asked.

"It's a shame you denied the crown," he said with another crooked grin. "You would have made someone a very happy man."

"I'm making a happy man right now," she said with a grin, leaning in and kissing him. He dragged the kiss out longer than she had probably intended, running his tongue slowly across her lower lip.

He reached up with his metal hand, taking hers and intertwining his sensationless fingers in hers. He kept his grip gentle to avoid hurting her.

"The day Van was born," he said, the memory coming back to him as if it were mere days ago. He looked away from her, electing instead to peer down at the contradiction of their hands—metal and flesh twisted together.

"It wasn't an easy pregnancy—mother struggled with him for days. He's always been stubborn, I suppose," Folken said with a grin. Eries giggled—a pure, sweet sound, like rain on cobblestones.

"Father was a mess—pacing and mumbling to himself. I was only ten, so I didn't really understand. I just knew that mother was in pain, and I spent every day of her labor crouched next to her bed, holding her hand. The handmaidens had to pry me from her to make me eat. They tried to get me to sleep, but I refused. I'm sure I fell asleep at some point, but… on the floor next to her.

"When it finally happened, father and I were there—one on each hand. I remember how strong her grip was…"

He paused, looking down at his metal fingers, conflicted about what he saw—the metal had replaced the hand that his mother held on the happiest day of his life, effectively rendering the memory toxic. Yet, now there was another woman's hand wrapped in it, the same affection felt in her grip.

He closed his fingers more tightly around hers, smiling to show her he wouldn't let the negativity overwhelm him.

"Of course, Father held him first," Folken said, smiling as he recalled it. "I remember crying… it was powerful to me, watching a father hold his newborn son. Father was often a cold man, but… not that day. He wept, and… I'd never seen him so happy. And then he handed him to me…"

He paused, his voice breaking with the emotion. "He taught me how to hold him, where to keep my arms, how to support his head. He was…"

His voice caught, and he cleared it, taking a deep breath. Eries clutched his hand closer comfortingly.

"He was so small, so perfect. I've never felt so simultaneously powerful and helpless as when I held him; in that moment, I was his protector. He was a helpless infant, and needed me, needed _us_ just to survive. But at the same time… I was powerless. I knew that I would do anything for him, wanted to reach up and hand him the sun if he wanted it. And I was so overwhelmed by this… _need_ to give him everything, all the while knowing that I would never give him enough. Never give him what he deserved.

"He only cried for a few moments, and then he fell asleep in my arms. I refused to give him back. I held him for hours, until my arms began to weaken. And mother just watched us, with this… perfect smile on her face. I think that… I formed my definition of happiness by the look on her face. And when I finally gave him back to her, she pulled me onto the bed next to her, one brother in each arm…"

Folken stopped, realizing he was shivering slightly, not from cold, but from the power of the memory. He finally looked at Eries, finding a tear rolling down her cheek to meet the tight-lipped smile on her lips.

"That's beautiful," she said, bringing his metal hand to her lips again. "Actually quite similar to my experience when Millerna was born. I was too young to hold her, but I remember… Millerna smiled on her first day. Infants usually don't form facial expressions that quickly, but… she did. She saw mother, she saw Marlene and me… and she smiled. It's so symbolically _Millerna—_ such ahappy girl…"

Eries paused, her smile fading. "But I… I've ruined that a bit… forcing her into this marriage with Dryden…"

Eries sighed, looking down at their hands.

"I suppose we both have some regrets when it comes to our siblings," Folken said, leaning in and kissing her cheek where the tear had fallen. She nodded, turning her face and placing her lips on his.

Her kiss was like a sudden drunkenness—she made him dizzy, made spots dance in his vision. And she didn't just kiss him with her lips; she put her entire body into it, hunching her shoulders toward him and wrapping him in her arms.

He felt a sudden urge to prove himself to her—to show her exactly what her kindness had meant to him. This whole experience could have been very lonely without her; a prisoner-traitor whose own blood despised him, whose only usefulness lay in his ability to provide information. But she had changed that—she had given him something to appreciate, something to want, something to… live for.

He shifted his upper body to face her, using his kiss to push her back. He crawled over her, propping himself with his left hand and running his metal one across her ribs.

There was a strange look in her eyes as she stared up at him, and she took his metal hand in hers. In a paralyzing display of trust, she guided his hand down her body, and he froze, panic coursing through every last nerve as he realized what she was asking of him. He was sure the distress was clear in his eyes.

"Eries… no," he whispered, his voice unsteady. "I could hurt you."

A confident grin spread her lips, and she combed her other hand through his hair once more. "You won't," she said calmly.

When he didn't move, she combed through his hair again, her eyes showing nothing but conviction. "I trust you," she said, her hand guiding his metal one once more.

With barely suppressed fear, he slid two metal fingers inside her. Her immediate gasp turned to a whimper, and she closed her eyes, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping the sheets beneath her. He leaned down, kissing her neck as he moved his fingers gingerly. She gasped his name, arching her whole body toward him.

He jumped as one of her hands found him, working him at the same rhythm his fingers did. He moaned against her neck, his left hand balling against the bed. He usually prided himself on his calm, on his level of control, but he only made it a few moments before becoming overwhelmed by his need for her.

With more rigor than he intended, he removed his fingers, sliding his metal hand under her hip and angling her up to him as he pushed inside her. She moaned softly, her hand leaving his hair to grip at his shoulder. She wrapped him in her long, slender legs, pulling him into her.

He kissed her hard as he began to move his hips evenly, unable to keep the whimper from escaping his lips. Her grip on his right shoulder pained his muscles, but for some reason it only made his pleasure more intense.

There had been women in Zaibach—heartless, emotionless women whose intent was either money or favor. He had given in to his body only a few times, and it had been an animalistic, detached experience. Eries was everything he didn't realize he had been starved of for the last ten years. He felt wanted, needed. And the way she moaned his name sent a powerful shiver down his spine. Every time he lay with her, he tasted paradise.

This was no exception. She didn't just lie there, she moved with him, exploring him with her hands and her lips. And he finally felt comfortable enough to use his metal hand of his own volition. In the past, she had to force him.

He tentatively ran his metal hand over her breast, her nipple. She gasped, shutting her eyes tight. He knew it would be slightly cold, and had hoped she would enjoy it. He wasn't prepared for how much, however.

Her legs tightened around him, and she arched her back, pulling him deeper. With a small whimper, he did it again, leaning in to kiss her as he did. Her lips opened for him, panting as his metal hand continued to explore her.

She stifled a cry as he pushed hard into her, and she stiffened. He grinned, continuing to move in the exact same way, knowing precisely what he had discovered. Her whole body began to go rigid, and her hand on his shoulder fell flat to the bed, open and beckoning his. He trailed his metal one into it, clutching it hard.

He tried hard to delay his own satisfaction. She shook beneath him, crying out as quietly as she could with every move of his hips. His body felt like a raging flood, ready to spill over at any second. He closed his eyes, delaying it for as long as possible, moaning as he did.

She gasped his name as her body seized up, tightening on him from every direction. He moved only twice more before losing control, bracing both hands on either side of her shoulders, her left still grasping his right. She wrapped his neck in a cocoon of her free arm, holding him tight as they both shook. He became quickly overwhelmed by the heat and the pleasure, unable to stifle his own cries. He gripped the bedclothes hard, hearing the fabric rip beneath his right as it closed with force around her grasp. With a final kiss on her eager lips, he pushed hard into her, the flood spilling over and ravaging every last muscle in his body.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

"Eries… _Eries!_ "

She stirred, early morning confusion failing to tell her what was strange about hearing Millerna's voice.

" _Eries, wake up._ "

Eries stretched, opening her eyes to weak morning light, and Millerna… looking panicked.

Eries' heart leapt into her throat.

" _Millerna, what are you doing in here!"_ she snapped, groggily watching her sister as she hurried around the bed to Folken.

"Zaibach has attacked again," she said, approaching Folken.

" _Lord Folken,_ " Millerna whispered, reaching out to rest a hand on his right shoulder and attempting to wake him.

Eries heart dropped back into her chest. Images flashed through her mind of the story he had told her—the sorcerer had approached him on his right, and he strangled the man to death. If Millerna surprised him…

"Don't!" she yelped at her sister, reaching out and catching Folken's mechanical arm just as he bolted upright, his hand ready to attack. Millerna gasped, stepping back as Eries held his metal wrist in one hand, wrapping her other around his neck. Early morning grogginess was one thing for Eries, but Folken's trauma caused him to react defensively.

With shock, she realized that she bore three deep cuts on the back of her left hand, running parallel to the bones. No doubt, a result of his metal grip on her during their lovemaking.

"Shhhh," she whispered, ignoring the dried blood and making him look at her. His crimson eyes were dazed and panicked. "Folken, it's me," she whispered.

He relaxed, letting out a breath, nodding almost unnoticeably to let her know he was okay. Eries released his hand at once, nodding to her sister.

Millerna's eyes stayed on Folken's shoulder for a moment, but she cleared her throat, her initial shock melting away. "Zaibach has attacked. The council is coming, right now, to collect Folken for his input. I thought… I should get here first…"

Eries chastised herself for snapping at her sister—she was just looking out for her.

"Thank you, Millerna," Eries said, tossing the sheets aside and fetching her dress. She didn't care about her nudity; both people present had seen her naked.

Millerna's eyes widened at the realization that this meant Folken was likely nude too, and her cheeks reddened.

"Hurry," she said, scurrying from the room and giving Eries a worried look as she passed.

Eries dressed quickly and silently, Folken doing the same. When she rushed to leave, he approached and grabbed her somewhat violently, yanking her back around and slamming the door with his other hand.

"What are you…" she began to gasp, but he pulled her close, angling her head up to kiss him by cupping her face in his hands. There was desperation in his kiss, and Eries couldn't help but give in to it, despite the urgency.

She pulled away from him, bringing her fingers to her lips in surprise. "What… was that…"

He stared back at her silently for a long time, and it was clear his mind was racing. He did not, however, put any of those thoughts to voice.

He smiled, the gesture somehow both disheartened and happy. He ran his metal thumb down her cheek affectionately, then pulled away suddenly. Without another word, he yanked the door open, disappearing around the corner and leaving Eries feeling empty.

Millerna peeked back in, having apparently been waiting outside the door.

"Eries, are you…" Millerna began, her face worried as she approached, "alright?"

Eries nodded, her legs feeling weak. She plopped into Folken's desk chair. _The first place I kissed him…_

"I don't know what I'm doing, Millerna. I wasn't supposed to… this wasn't supposed to go this far. I just…"

Frustration forced her to pause, tearing a piece of the pillow sham away and wrapping it around her wounded left hand. She didn't remember any pain, didn't recall his grip having been that tight.

Millerna closed the door, obviously still worried that someone would find them or hear them. She approached, leaning against the desk and resting a hand on Eries's shoulder in comfort.

"You're in love with him," Millerna finally said solemnly.

Eries took a deep breath, burying her face in her hands. " _Damn it all_ , Millerna," she mumbled into her hands. "I didn't mean for this to happen. It was supposed to be a meaningless affair, that's what I wanted. I wasn't…"

Eries' thoughts trailed off, a frustrated groan escaping and echoing in her hands. Millerna sighed. "I understand," she said solemnly, and her tone forced Eries to look up at her.

Millerna opened her palm, revealing both wedding bands.

"Dryden gave it back," she said, her voice shaking as she peered down at the rings.

Eries straightened. Normally, duty would force exasperation at her sister. Duty would see no emotion in it, just politics. _Why? What did you do?_ She would have asked. Now… she was simply worried about her sister's wellbeing.

"He said that he didn't want to force me, that he knew I didn't love him. He was kind, and… he just didn't want to hurt me. I didn't want to marry him, but… I also didn't want to hurt him, and I clearly have. _Gods_ , why must we all be cursed like this?"

Eries nodded, rubbing her temple. "I'm sorry, sister. I forced you into that. I didn't know, didn't understand. But I do now, and I… _I'm so sorry._ Can you ever forgive me?"

Millerna smiled genuinely, stretching her arms around her sister and hugging her tight. Eries reveled in the closeness, glad to have someone who understood. "There's nothing to forgive, Eries. You did what you thought was right."

Millerna pulled back, wiping away a rogue tear. "But it's not over, for either of us. Didn't mother used to say that the complicated things in life are only complicated because they are worth the trouble?"

Eries smiled, nodding as she stood. "You're right," she said, trying to be confident and failing. Millerna wasn't aware of Folken's limited time. If she was, she might not have as much confidence. "Let's go see what this fuss is about, shall we?"


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Walking away from her physically pained Folken. He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought; things were going to start escalating quickly now that Zaibach had made their move. The first attack at Rampant had no doubt been to show Asturia that Zaibach was well aware of their movements. This... _this_ was the real war beginning. And the realization that every kiss could be the last, every word said could be the final one spoken between them. He was used to losing people, used to leaving and letting them lose him—used to it, but not prepared to do it again. And walking away without saying everything he wanted to was agonizing.

He rubbed his temples as Aros escorted him through the halls. The guard had been mere steps from his quarters when Folken exited, and he silently thanked Millerna for her quick thinking. Personally, Folken wouldn't care if everyone knew. But his life was forfeit, so he wouldn't have to face the consequences. Eries would. And if she wanted it hidden, then she would have it that way.

They rounded the corner to the council chamber, finding panicked men running about yelling and interrupting each other. He tensed, unprepared to deal with the anxiety levels.

"Lord Folken, they've attacked only two fronts! Do you think it's possible they are unaware of our other strongholds?!"

"No, they mean to distract us and attack from our weakened sides!"

"Folken!"

"Sir!"

Folken took a deep, measured breath, and held up his right hand to silence them. He normally kept it hidden from them, but their hysteria would not be calmed by anything less than a slap to the face, and the sight of his monstrous claw usually was.

He wasn't mistaken. A hush fell over them, and he used the opportunity to hide his arm beneath the drape once more before speaking.

"No, I guarantee they are aware of all fronts, and are poised to attack each and every one of them. By attacking only two... which ones?" he asked, interrupting his own train of thought of Van's image assaulted his mind.

"Cesario and Basram, to the north," King Rhyne responded.

 _Of course it is Cesario. Van is there._

"By attacking from only one direction, it is almost certain they mean to bottleneck your forces, then attack from the south. Do not fall for their trap. Keep your men where they are, and trust in the north's ability to hold them off."

"But Basram has called for reinforcements! Clearly they think they cannot hold! What are we to do?"

Folken sighed, closing his eyes. He knew they would not like his answer.

"You must think like a Strategos. If you branch your forces from anywhere else, Zaibach will notice, and attack the men you've pulled forces away from. And so on, and so on, until you have redirected and split your men exponentially, weakening all of them and doing Zaibach's work for them."

A collective silence fell over the council.

"So we are to abandon Basram? Ignore the call for aid?" Allen asked.

Folken sighed again. This was the downside to allying with the morally right—making sacrifices wasn't nearly as simple.

His silence was his answer.

"What if we were to give up the girl?" an unknown dignitary piped up.

Rage seethed within Folken; Hitomi was a sweet, innocent thing, a long way from home, and trying to be brave. And she meant the world to Van. Folken could have exploded at the man, but he took a moment to level his head before speaking.

"Not a month ago, you gathered in alliance against Zaibach, ready to charge into war. Now you would sacrifice an innocent, likely terrified young girl who has done nothing but help you? And for what? To buy a semblance of time? To grovel at the feet the enemy in the hopes they back away and thank you for it? Do not cower, sir, it's unbecoming of a so-called leader."

The insult stung the man, and Folken studied him, waiting and watching to see if he would respond in anger or if he would accept the logic, albeit antagonizing, and back down.

He should have expected.

"Perhaps we could hand them back their traitor too. That might sway them. Or just return that monstrosity of yours—I'm sure they will be wanting their godless science back."

The silence in the chamber was deafening. The council was obviously waiting to see how Folken would respond. Their apprehension wasn't completely unfounded- he wanted to tear the man in half, show him exactly what he expected to see; a monster.

He took a measured breath, blinking slowly to calm himself.

"Be my guest," he said, trying to keep calm and managing an icy tone. He raised his metal hand in the direction of the offender, extending the rarely-used talon-like tips to make it even more claw-like. Several people gasped.

"Trust me, this thing is just as monstrous to me as it is to you. And ridding me of it would be a great favor to me. My nightmare would be over. That being said, handing Zaibach my very head will do nothing to sway them, so if we might put aside petty insults in lieu of fear, and perhaps tackle the real problem at hand?"

The council was silent as a cemetery, the men bowing their heads and waiting quietly for Folken to speak.

"Good," he said shortly, retracting the bladed fingertips on his hand and hiding it once more. "May I suggest deploying the castle guard?"

"What?! But the castle guard is in place to... well, to defend the castle... the royal family!"

Eries' stubborn smile crossed Folken's mind; her strength as she had attempted to tear the boards blocking the caverns from the wall.

"Your royal family is perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. And what's more—if Zaibach penetrates the city's massive outer defenses and makes their way to the castle, the guard will not stop them. But deploying them to the front lines might give the struggling defensive lines just the bolster they need. Your castle guard is combat trained, are they not?"

"Of... of course," a man in a red and gold cloak said as he stepped forward and bowed. "I am Noka, Commander of the Castle Guard."

Folken bowed his head. "Do you feel your men are prepared to deploy with the garrisons? Don't be afraid to speak truth—I would prefer to know if they are undertrained."

Noka nodded. "No, my lord. My men are expertly trained for close combat, some are even melef trained."

Folken nodded in thanks, turning back to the council for their input.

"But... but that will leave the castle unprotected..." a councilman said quietly.

"With all due respect," Folken replied, "if Zaibach defeats the alliance at the borders, no amount of castle guards will keep them at bay. And perhaps this way, Basram will get a small amount of aid they called for."

The councilmen nodded and agreed, and Noka bowed, excusing himself to ready his men.

Folken turned to Allen as the councilmen began to mumble and talk amongst themselves. "Have you received dispatch orders, Allen?" he asked quietly.

Allen seemed confused at why Folken would ask or care.

"Yes, I am to join Cesario's north," he said.

Folken nodded, sighing his relief. "If I may make a request..."

Allen nodded, his confusion still clear.

"My brother can be reckless and headstrong. Now is not the time to be so. I... I would like to ask..."

Allen softened, smiling slightly and resting a hand on Folken's left shoulder.

"I will fight beside him and defend him as if he were my own brother," he said.

Folken smiled genuinely. "Thank you," he said with a sigh.

"How goes your work with the pillars of light?" Allen asked, resting his hand on his sword hilt.

Folken knew his response would be a lie. If Asturia knew he had pinpointed how to direct them, they would abandon the fronts here, and attempt to go to Zaibach and attack directly. A good plan, in theory... but Zaibach had a tendency to be vindictive. Even if the alliance succeeded in Zaibach's capital, the forces stationed at Asturia would still attack out of pure spite. And with the alliance gone to the Capitol, Asturia, unguarded, would be leveled. Eries would die. Van would die. And for nothing. No, it was Folken's responsibility to journey to the Capitol. To face Dornkirk.

"I believe I have narrowed down the waves the engine gives off, and with more work, I will be able to direct them to our will," he said, sorrow seeping into his words. Allen had just agreed to protect Van in Folken's stead, and Folken had in turn lied to him. But he had to remind himself it was for Allen's own good—for the good of the alliance.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-six

Folken sat rigid in the engine's massive shadow, staring up at the power that had caused so much. The Atlantians had tried to hide it away forever, Dornkirk tried to cage it and use it to his own ends. And now Folken himself would use it to stop Dornkirk, to attempt to salvage his own selfish dreams of an ideal future. Even if it meant he didn't get to see it.

Would the death never end? That seemed to be the fee—for anything worthwhile, someone had to die. Atlantians. Dragons. Kings. Death was the price, and before this war was over, someone was going to pay it.

Folken sighed, leaning down over the letter he had written and gently pouring red wax from the candle to his left over the scroll. He pulled his father's ring from his left hand, pressing the Fanelian seal into the wax.

"Aros?" he called, and the guard straightened at the top of the stairs. Asturia hadn't kept a guard on him for a long time, but given the devolving state of the war, they had assigned Aros, the boy who used to guard his quarters, to protect him. He didn't feel that he needed protecting, but didn't argue.

"Yes, sir?" Aros asked, descending the stairs and approaching.

"Will you be deploying with the castle guard?" he asked, standing and picking up the scroll. He spun it absently in his hands as he spoke.

"No, my lord…"

"I've told you, just Folken please," Folken said gently. He actually missed the days when Aros guarded him; they would talk through the night about trivial things, on the nights when Folken avoided sleep. Before… Eries. It had been almost brotherly—discussing the young man's family, education, even women.

Aros nodded with a shy grin. "No… _Folken,_ " Aros corrected, and he obviously struggled to break with propriety. "My training is not entirely complete, and as such, myself and the other trainees are to remain at the castle. A last line of defense, as it were."

A last line of defense being boys with incomplete training? No, they were left behind to keep them out of the way. But there was no reason Aros needed to know that.

"Well… might I ask a favor of you, Aros?" Folken asked.

"Of course," Aros replied, smiling and obviously pleased to be of service.

Folken raised the scroll with his right hand, unafraid to display the metal before the boy. He had seen it, and over time, no longer cared.

"Will you deliver this letter to Princess Eries?" he asked.

Aros's brows furrowed in confusion, but he slowly took the scroll regardless.

"But… I am to stay here, protecting you…" he replied.

Folken raised an eyebrow almost comically. "I was trained personally by Balgus Ganesha, one of the three Great Swordsmen of Gaea. I've faced Dragons. I trained as a sorcerer under Emperor Dornkirk himself. And I'm basically half Guymelef…" he raised his metal fist, to which Aros laughed halfheartedly. "I will be fine, Aros. Please…"

His voice almost betrayed him with emotion, and he had to pause. "Do this for me?"

Aros softened, his hand closing around the scroll definitively. "I will, Lord Folken."

"Thank you," Folken said, bowing. Aros saluted him, turning on his heels and exiting the hangar.

With a sigh, Folken slumped back into the chair, his mind racing with a thousand disturbing thoughts. Even if he succeeded in stopping Dornkirk, he was still doomed—his Draconian blood poisoned by Fate Alteration. Did he even want to come back? It would be so cruel, to succeed in Zaibach, only to return triumphant to Asturia, to reach everything he ever wanted… and lose it. How long would he even have? He had been feeling the effects of Fate's toxicity for a long time—his wings were weak when he used them, and his body was… tired.

But… there was so much to come back to. His heart yearned to return to Van. Perhaps defeating Dornkirk would earn him his brother's forgiveness. But even then… he would bathe in that redemption for… days? Weeks? It wouldn't be enough. And then there was Eries…

He felt a pit in his chest at the thought of her. Part of him was angry at her—she had made him feel again. He'd been alone for so long; been a cold, ruthless warmonger for so long, that being emotionless had become second nature. But she had awoken the man he once was, which made dying so much more complicated—he couldn't face the grave without fear now. Now there were so many questions he would never see answered, so many possibilities he would never discover. What he and Eries could have been, what he and Van could have been, what a reborn Fanelia could have been. But he couldn't be angry at her for… loving him. She hadn't meant to, just as he hadn't. And, despite his reborn fear, he had something pure to hold onto, something to cherish. She had shown him that there was still life in him, despite his own thoughts to the contrary. And she had tried her hardest to rid him of his guilt, to take away his suffering. He could never thank her for that, for it was something he couldn't put into words.

The sound of groaning wood tore him from his thoughts, and he found that he had been gripping his chair so hard it began to bow and creak. He pulled his metal hand back, unable to fight off the image of her fingers wrapped in it.

 _Gods, I just… I want things to be different. I want her, I want to be with my brother again, I want to live. Why,_ why _is it Dornkirk can twist fate for his own ends, but I'm cursed to accept mine? Death waits for no man, not even a man who wields fate like a blade. Is that the cruel irony of my role in this? I worked to give Dornkirk control, and in the end I pay the price? She does? Gods, I can't even begin to think about her… my death will break her heart. I'll have left yet another person to sob in my absence…_

Folken could feel himself beginning to panic—his heart slamming against his chest, both hands trembling. He closed his eyes, taking himself to the place in his mind he kept for things like this—the memory he always turned to in order to calm himself.

 _"Don't be afraid, my love," Varie said with a smile, stroking his hair. "It's just a bad dream."_

 _Folken took a deep breath, feeling himself drenched in a cold sweat._

 _"It was terrible, mother, you were…"_

 _"It doesn't matter; don't give it life by giving it words. It wasn't real. Nightmares and monsters are only powerful when we make them so. Forget it, ignore it, and it will lose its power. As with all negative things, we must choose whether we fuel the flames or rise above them. And you know what?"_

 _He looked up at her as she brushed his hair from his eyes affectionately. "The gods gave you wings to make rising above it that much easier. Now, close your eyes."_

 _Folken lay back in bed, closing his eyes as she began to hum her lullaby._

His heart steadied as he whistled the lullaby to himself, heeding her words—he was only overwhelmed because he was allowing himself to be.

"Folken!"

He paused his whistling, turning to find Hitomi at the top of the stairs. She was winded, as if she had run all the way from the castle. He stood, unable to keep from smiling as she approached. Hitomi was very much like Eries—perfect and pure of heart. And she only ever thought of others, never herself.

Hitomi seemed anxious as she stopped in front of Folken.

"Van's hurting, I… I want to help him…" she begged.

 _Of course she does. She loves him. And, like Eries, she will do whatever it takes to take away his pain…_

Folken's thoughts turned, apprehension overridden by expectation.

 _Perhaps it's her… I've tuned the engine, and I needed a pillar of light. Her will seems to generate them… she's what I've been waiting for… the unknown element. Appearing, not to undercut Dornkirk's fate, but to complete Van's!_

He smiled, surprised he hadn't seen it all along. "Somehow, I knew that you would come, Hitomi," he said quietly.

She stuttered, struggling to respond. "I… saw… but I saw something… that was… well, I… saw that you would die in Zaibach, Folken!" she blurted, her eyes worried and afraid.

His heart sank, despite the fact he had expected to hear it.

 _Now I know for certain. This is my timeline…_ _if I go to Zaibach, I'll never see Van again. I'll never hear him laugh, I'll never see him King of Fanelia. And I'll…_

 _I'll never kiss her again, never hold her. Never again feel protected by her._

"I saw something that… was so horrible…" Hitomi mumbled, looking down at her feet.

A debilitating anguish flushed through him, but his mother leapt back into his thoughts.

 _Don't be afraid my love._

He took a deep breath, trying to relax. He didn't want Hitomi to think that this was somehow her fault, or that she could stop it. This was barreling toward them, the impact inevitable. The only variable was time.

"You needn't worry about that," he said, bowing his head and closing his eyes to calm his nerves. "You see, I… don't have much longer to live."

Hitomi's head snapped up, worry clear on her innocent, young features.

He turned away from her, shrugging off his apprehension along with his tunic and drape. With a sigh of relief, he released his wings from his back, stretching them as far as they would go before relaxing them to his sides. She had seen them before—in the rubble of Fanelia. But she didn't understand why.

"A reaction of fortune is shortening my life," he said, staring down at the desk before him and trying to keep his mind distracted. "These black wings are proof of that," he finished.

"Your… wings are…" Hitomi murmured, obviously combing through what she had heard.

He spun to face her, hoping to convince her that this could be done without her—without endangering another of Van's great loves.

"I plan to atone with my life for my many crimes," he said, images and memories dancing through his mind—his mother, distraught and wandering after him. Van, alone in a great castle with no one but a warrior and cat-girl to console him. The rubble of Fanelia, smoking as the Fortresses whisked away with no remorse. Naria, Eriya—clutching at his sides even as their lives slipped away.

"Crimes from working for Dornkirk," he continued. "This…" he paused, trying to convince himself before convincing her. "Is my fate."

"No, you can't!" Hitomi cried, stepping toward him. She was clutching her pendant in her hands. "If you die, then you'll leave Van all alone, I don't want to see him alone! I can't stand the thought of him being unhappy!"

 _Gods, you have no idea how badly I want to avoid that too. But he won't be alone. He'll have you, Hitomi._

"Don't worry, Van will succeed," Folken replied somberly. He had been unsure of many things in recent memory, but Van's ability to adapt and rise above adversity was not one of them. Van would grieve, just as their mother had. But he would accept his brother's sacrifice, and use it. For what, Folken could only hope to imagine. "I will leave my body behind, all for the sake of a new world…"

"No, that's not right!" Hitomi gasped, grasping her pendant tight against her chest. "I will do everything I can to change that awful fate!"

 _Don't say that…_

As she did, her pendant began to glow a blinding white, the engine behind Folken illuminating with it.

 _The pillar of light… Hitomi's will has called it. And the engine will direct it as I've programmed it to. This… this is it._

As quickly as it had brightened, the engine went dark, revealing a pillar of light erupting from the sky and swallowing up both Hitomi and Folken.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-seven

"Have you told him?" Millerna asked, her eyes distracted by the thick black smoke rising from Asturia's northern and eastern borders. The battles were far away, but every now and then, blasts and concussions could be heard.

Eries looked down at the black feather in her still-bandaged hand, her feet in the sand beyond it. The very sand in which she had walked with him, divulged herself to him.

"I…can't," she replied, gently pinching the feather in her fingers and running them the length of it. It was strong but soft… just like him. "He's going to die; he knows it. Admitting to him means… making it so much more difficult for him. Losing a meaningless affair is one thing—losing love is another. And he… he doesn't want to hurt me. And if he knew I was in love with him… he would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. And I… I need him to think of himself. If he does, maybe… maybe fate can change. Maybe he can alter it… one last time. And come back. Make it through this…"

Her voice caught, and she choked it back. Another explosion resounded in the distance.

Millerna approached, wrapping her arms around Eries' shoulders. "You really think he considers this meaningless?" Millerna asked quietly. "I've seen the way he looks at you. And Eries," she paused, taking a muted breath, "What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't survive this war? And he never knew? Wouldn't you want him to face death knowing… knowing exactly how you felt?"

Eries choked back a sob, groaning in frustration as she wiped away rebellious tears. A particularly aggressive wave hit her knees, pushing both Eries and Millerna back toward the shore.

"What's so wrong with him knowing? If he's going to die anyway, what does it matter if you protect him or not? At least… he would know…" Millerna said, holding her sister close.

 _Maybe she's right. He's going to die. Nothing I can do or say will change that. It's naïve to think I can. And he's been so broken, so alone for so long. What could it hurt?_

"Princess Eries?"

She wiped her eyes, turning to face the shore where a young castle guard stood, bowing. She recognized him—Aros was his name. He had been the guard assigned to Folken in the very beginning.

The boy raised his hand, a scroll held aloft. "From Lord Folken, milady," Aros said.

Eries' heart sank, a memory sneaking through her mind.

 _"Princess Eries?" the postmaster bowed as he approached, holding out a scroll. It bore the Friedian crest. "Just arrived from Fried, milady. From Princess Marlene."_

She had no idea what she was accepting—that it would be the last thing she ever received from Marlene. That the words within it would be the last ones ever bestowed on her by her eldest sister. Looking back on it, if she had known… she would have treated it with more delicacy, cradled the parchment like an infant, broken the seal gently. And directed her tears elsewhere than on the very ink her sister had put to paper for a final time.

Eries stepped forward, her hand shaking as she accepted the scroll with the same hand that held his ebony feather. She turned to look at Millerna, sure that her apprehension and fear were plain in her eyes. Millerna clearly didn't know what to say; her shoulders sank, her eyes worried.

Determination suddenly overpowered Eries. "No, not like this…" she murmured through gritted teeth, holding the scroll and feather in one hand and, to the boy's complete shock, taking Aros's sword from its sheath with the other.

She used it to slice down the side of her dress—she planned on doing a lot of running, and a dress would only hinder her movement.

"Here, protect my sister," she said, shoving the sword back into the boy's hands.

She spun away from him, rocketing across the beach, leaving her shoes in the sand.

She had never run harder or faster in her life. She could feel her feet tearing on the cobblestones of Palas's city streets. Her throat and lungs burned from the exertion. The people brave enough to traverse the streets during a siege paused to watch her in shock.

The hangar was on the other side of the city. It gave her time to think, the sound of her own ragged breathing and pattering footfalls providing a rhythmic distraction.

 _What was I thinking? I've done this before. I never got to say goodbye to Marlene. The last time I saw her, I didn't even say 'I love you.' I thought she knew, we're sisters. And I know she did… but… I didn't say it. I thought I learned…_

A cool tear fell down her hot cheek, and she ignored it as she rocketed past the quartermaster's hall, past the armory. Past the empty Melef hangars.

The hangar finally came into sight, and relief flooded her. She threw herself down the alleyway, her legs nearly ready to give out.

As she leapt up the stairs, a pillar of light erupted from the sky above her, falling straight down into the hangar.

" _No…"_ she gasped, using her grip on the handrails to toss herself up several stairs at once.

She flew around the corner of the hangar's entrance, daring to hope.

"Folken!" she cried as she breached the entrance, her voice echoing and reverberating all around her. A deep pit tore through her as she beheld the empty hangar, the engine's light dying down and revealing his unattended desk, the quill he had used still lying on its surface.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 _"What if I can't? What if I just… fall?" Folken asked, stretching his small wings out and feeling like they weren't large enough, weren't strong enough._

 _Varie smiled, her wings emerging from the slits in the back of her dress. "I'll be right beside you, my love. But don't worry—I have faith in you. You're very strong; you've been practicing for so long."_

 _"But… but only just hovering," he argued, shivering as a breeze hit his bare chest._

 _"Don't be so afraid, boy!" Ruhm called from the forest, where several of his clan had gathered to watch Folken's first flight. "With a head of hair like yours! That'll break the fall!"_

 _His clansmen laughed, but Folken didn't see what was so funny._

 _"Hush, Ruhm, you'll only frighten him," Varie said, not harshly, but with enough force to halt their laughter. "If you want to help, run down to the base of the cliff. You can catch him if he falls."_

 _Ruhm straightened, nodding. "Yes, Queen Varie," he said, rounding on his clansmen and running back into the forest on all fours._

 _"You really think they'll need to catch me?!" Folken gasped, nervously picking at the pants he wore._

 _She smiled mischievously, poking his nose once with her pointer finger. "Of course not, love. I was just trying to get some peace and quiet."_

 _Folken smiled._

 _"Flying is simple, really. The wind, the currents, the air all around you—it will do the work. Have you ever watched leaves on the wind? They fly just fine, and they've no wings at all. They are simply riding the wind. You just have to have the strength and the intuition to make the necessary adjustments. Why, I was a year younger than you are now when I first took to the skies."_

 _"You were four?!" Folken asked in disbelief._

 _"Yes, love. Although… I really shouldn't have. I was just so enthusiastic…"_

 _"What does enthusss… enthusiastic mean?" he asked, half curious and half stalling._

 _She grinned, kneeling in front of him. The wind picked up her long black hair, and she had to hold it down to tame it. "It means I was so excited, I couldn't wait. Just like I am now—I know you'll be just fine. Are you ready?"_

 _"I guess," he mumbled, kicking at the gravel at his feet._

 _"Don't guess, know!" Varie said, standing. "Confidence maketh man," she said, flapping her wings hard twice, her feet rising from the ground for only seconds before touching back down. "I chose the cliff for a reason, Folken," she continued, folding her wings once more and approaching, holding out a hand to him. He took it, and she led him to the cliff's edge._

 _"I know it seems a terrifying choice for your first flight, but it will actually be easier than anything else. There is a strong updraft coming off these cliffs," she said, holding her hand out over the Cliffside and guiding his with it. "Feel it?"_

 _He spread out his hand, feeling the wind pushing up on his palm. "Yes, momma."_

 _"Good," she said with a smile. "Then all you need to do is spread your wings out flat against the draft, and hold them that way. And it will pick you up… just like this…"_

 _She reached down suddenly, lifting him by his armpits and spinning him around. He couldn't help his squeal of delight._

 _She set him gently back on his feet, ruffling his hair with affection._

 _"So?" she said, stepping to the edge of the cliff and opening her hand to him. He approached, his heart doing flips into his throat as he looked down the steep drop before him, the jagged rocks and high trees below. He took a deep breath, taking his mother's hand._

 _"Spread your wings as far as they will go," Varie instructed, doing it herself. Her massive white wing spread above him, casting him in shadow. He stretched his wings out, and their length was barely half of hers._

 _"Whenever you are ready, my love. I won't force you," she said, looking down at him with a smile._

 _He sighed, looking out over the expansive forest below. He watched a flock of birds suddenly take off from a tree, rising rapidly into the sky, a few of them doing flips, diving and playing with each other. He smiled, his fear morphing into an anxious excitement._

 _"I'm ready," he said._

 _With poised grace, Varie leaned forward, allowing herself to fall. With a cry, Folken followed suit._

 _He grunted as the hard draft hit him, and his wings yanked back, filling with wind and rocketing him upwards. He squealed with delight, closing his eyes. The muscles in his back were stretched and strained in a way he had never felt. When he opened his eyes, he found himself propelled far above the Cliffside he had leapt from. And Varie was right beside him, smiling._

 _"See?!" she asked, flapping her wings once to show him how. He mimicked the movement, finding that it propelled him even farther into the air. He giggled, unable to control his exhilaration._

 _"I'm doing it!" he cried, kicking his feet._

 _Varie laughed, throwing her head back as she did. "Yes, you are!"_

 _Folken looked down at the forest, the trees, the rocks—and Fanelia, shining like a great gem on the horizon._

 _"Ready to do more?!" Varie called._

 _Folken smiled. "Yes!"_

 _"Then follow me!" she said, angling her wings downward and plummeting past the cliff._

 _Folken angled his wings, rocketing after her with an excited cry._


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-nine

With a sickening jerk and blinding white light, Folken felt himself become weightless. It felt like flying, felt like the first time. He was distantly aware of Hitomi's presence by his side, but couldn't see her, couldn't see anything but light.

And as quickly as it started, it stopped. The light dissipated, and Folken felt his feet once more on the ground. He gingerly opened his eyes, hoping for anything but what he saw.

The dark maroon hue of the Fate Alteration Engine glowed to his left, the massive monstrosity of Emperor Dornkirk's life-sustaining machine stood before him. The yellow tubes of Dornkirk's fate serum pumped by his side, constantly filling his body with it.

"Where are we?" Hitomi asked nervously.

Folken felt himself flooded with rage—standing here, the very place his body had been altered. The place he had forsaken his country, his future… _Van._

"Everything is now in place," Dornkirk's voice hissed through the massive room. It sent a shiver through Folken's very bones. So many terrible memories, so many mistakes hinged on that voice. Being away from it, not hearing it… Folken didn't realize how much he despised it until now.

He peered up at Dornkirk's throne-like perch atop the machine that kept him alive, knowing that laying eyes on him would only drive him mad. And it did.

 _Dornkirk's maniacal cackling as Folken rocketed from the gurney, panicked and trying to fight off the sorcerers with a new arm. Dornkirk's hypnotic reasoning as he explained his 'new fate' to Folken._

Folken grimaced against the assault of memories; he felt like his blood was boiling with the rage he felt.

"All of the pieces have come to me," Dornkirk sneered as he continued. "The time has come to use the full power of the Fate Alteration Engine."

Dornkirk's delusion was clear in his confidence.

"All is proceeding according to _my will,"_ he sneered, directing his snide grin at Folken.

"Your will?!" Folken asked, wondering if he was truly that delusional. Hardly anything was going according to his plan, at least not yet. He certainly couldn't have known that Hitomi and Folken would be transported to him; Hitomi's will had done that.

"Yeeeeess," Dornkirk drawled, making Folken's skin crawl. "I guided fate, so you would bring the girl from the Mystic Moon to me."

 _That… that can't be. He can't, he doesn't know how… not without me. Is he just trying to convince himself that his alteration is working, even when it's not? Unless he does…unless he figured it out… in which case… he influenced my decision to come here, he pulled me away from Eries, away from Van. This… this will keep happening. He will keep changing fate, keep meddling in destiny's true path, every day, from now until eternity. He will never stop, it will never be over. There will be no ultimate future._

Folken growled in anger. "Just how long do you plan to toy with fate?!" Folken yelled, his fists clenched so hard in anger that they began to shake. He had dedicated his life to this… _ideal future,_ and it wasn't even a possibility. Dornkirk had just dangled it in front of him to coerce him, to drive him, to _control him._

Dornkirk scoffed, the sound reverberating in Folken's ribs. "A foolish question—you should know my true intentions."

Folken ground his teeth in anger— _forever. He will bend fate to whatever whim he desires… forever. And I should have known._

Folken narrowed his eyes up at Dornkirk. "And you should know mine," he snarled.

"You have come to kill me, am I right?" Dornkirk sneered, his confidence making Folken see red. As if he was completely unafraid. As if he could control death itself.

"Come on, kill me. _Come on,"_ Dornkirk growled.

Folken knew he shouldn't let Dornkirk's prodding get to him. Just as he hadn't let Van's when they sparred. But Dornkirk was responsible for every second of Folken's suffering, the suffering of everyone he loved. This man, this _one man_ had seen to the utter chaos that now consumed Gaea. And he couldn't care less about any of it, about any of the people whose lives he had destroyed. Naria. Eriya. Varie. Van. _Eries._

Her image assaulted his mind—wading through the waves of Asturia's shoreline, the sunset reflected in her kind, soft eyes. Her hand held out to him, fingers entwined in the metal. Completely unafraid.

" _What are you waiting for, Folken!"_ Dornkirk roared, effectively snapping Folken's last nerve.

He drew his sword with his left hand, spreading his wings to their full length. Hitomi spoke, but Folken's ears rang with so much rage, he couldn't comprehend what she said. He understood only one thing—Dornkirk needed to die. _Now._

The machine in which Dornkirk resided began to hiss out steam, pieces receding like the cockpit of a guymelef. As the pieces pulled away, Dornkirk's unnatural, skeletal frame came into view. He was truly monstrous—devolved to such extremes that he was just bones and fate serum.

He began to laugh maniacally as he stood, his grotesque visage projected unevenly on the steam before him by the light of his machines.

"Now is the time—fight with me, _Folken,"_ Dornkirk sneered, the sound of delusional confidence dripping from his words. As if he was sure nothing could reach him. As if he was protected by his monstrous fate engine. The sound of his continued laughter pierced Folken like a blade—all the death, all the pain, all the despair around him, and Dornkirk found it amusing.

"Monster," Folken snarled out his frustration, leaping into the air with a powerful thrust of his wings.

Varie's image danced in his mind. _'Nightmares and monsters are only powerful when we make them so.'_

"Folken, stop!" Hitomi cried. It did nothing to pierce his blinding fury.

With an anguished cry, he raised the sword, landing lithely before Dornkirk. Meeting his mad eyes only made it worse; triggering thousands of memories stained with those eyes.

 _Dornkirk's visage staring down at him as the sorcerers attempted to restrain him. The grotesque, twisted screen portraying an uneven display of those eyes as Folken knelt, swearing his fealty. That same screen, watching as Folken destroyed his own homeland. Watching as Naria and Eriya died in his arms._

Folken cried out, bringing the sword down hard with the weight of those he'd lost. For a brief, vindicating moment, the fear was clear in Dornkirk's mad eyes.

As easily as the jaws of the dragon had closed, the blade sliced through Dornkirk's paper-thin flesh, through his brittle, serum-soaked bones. The sword cleaved him open, spraying nothing but yellow fate-serum; not a single ounce of blood.

The force of the blow was much stronger than needed. Folken's blade carved into the machine to Dornkirk's left, breaking as it struck the impenetrable metal. Folken watched with sickening satisfaction as the life dulled from Dornkirk's empty eyes.

When the dragon's jaw had closed on him, he saw every nanosecond—saw the gleam of the fangs, the saliva dripping from the beast's maw. The panic in its purple eyes, the moon's fractured reflection on its scales. With horror, he felt that same hypersensitivity as the blade's shattered tip ricocheted off the machine. Dornkirk's vials of serum slowly emptied, spraying from the gaping wound in his chest. Dornkirk's lifeless carcass remained, propped upright by the very machine he had used to keep himself alive. And the broken sword tip spun back, yellow with fate serum, embedding into Folken's chest with a sickening _snap_ and sting of pain.

His rational mind wanted to ask why as his fingers began to go cold—how was it even possible? The chances of his sword breaking, ricocheting back with enough force to pierce his sternum, pierce his heart.

The answer was splayed out before him, lifeless and unmoving.

"I see…" he mumbled to himself, feeling weakness spread through him like water. He was distantly aware of his own blood on his chest, but the sensation was slowly fading.

"This is the heart of the fate alteration engine…" he gasped, feeling his lungs pounding against his aching ribs. "Action and reaction are the most… powerful."

" _I trust you…"_

Eries' smiling face, soft and safe. The Asturian sunset, shining magnificently beyond her, mimicking her very heart. Varie, affectionately brushing his hair from his eyes. _"Don't be afraid, my love…"_

Folken felt a wave of contentment at the memories, as the realization that Dornkirk was gone washed over him. It was over. Never again would those he loved suffer under a madman's fist. Never again…

"It's alright…" he said aloud, more to himself than anyone. He could feel the cold spreading from his fingertips, numbing his arms and legs. "The war will be over… Gaea will have true peace…"

Eries will. _Van will._

Folken was distantly aware of a fading vertigo as he slipped from the machine. He could faintly hear Hitomi scream, but it sounded like it was underwater.

"Folken!"

" _Folken!"_

 _Van came jogging up excitedly, his hands jostling around the tiny bird he clutched in his hands. Merle pounced happily behind him._

" _Careful, Van," Folken said, approaching the very cliff he had leapt from with his mother ten years before. He knelt, steadying Van's excitement by wrapping Van's hands in both of his own. "It's very fragile."_

 _Van opened his hands, peering affectionately down at the tiny brown bird. The bandages Varie had delicately wrapped around its broken wing kept it constricted, but it seemed content—unafraid of those who had helped it._

" _Still think you should'a let me eat it!" Merle chipped in, licking the fur on her left wrist._

 _Folken gave her a chastising glare, playfully tossing a small rock at her. She hissed, swatting it from the air before it ever touched her._

" _How would that be fair, Merle?" Folken asked, brushing a single finger down the top of the bird's head. It chirped, closing its eyes happily. "Hunting something that can't fight back or flee? Is that really how you want to catch a bird?"_

 _Merle huffed, sitting back and crossing her arms._

" _There will be plenty more," Folken continued, looking back at Van, who was bouncing on his heels excitedly. "But this one, we're going to let go."_

 _Van's excitement faded, quickly replaced with worry. "You think he's ready?" he asked, peering down at the bird. "What if his wing isn't healed, what if he isn't strong enough?"_

 _Folken sighed. "Both good questions," he said, running a hand through Van's hair. "There's no way to know. We just have to trust him. We just have to let him go, and see what happens."_

 _Van groaned worriedly. Folken smiled, his heart physically aching as he watched his little brother display so much compassion for something so small and insignificant. It was just Van's way—he cared so much, about everything._

" _Ready?" he asked, inching closer on his knees._

" _I guess…" Van said, pulling the bird close against his chest._

" _Alright, hold still," Folken said, reaching forward and beginning to unravel the tiny bandages from the bird's wing and body. It chirped, wriggling under his fingers._

 _When he had finished, the bird hopped to its feet, bouncing in Van's palm for a moment and peering up at both Folken and Van with a nervous chirp. Van slowly held his hands up and away from his body, offering the endless sky before them._

 _The bird hopped once, looking out over the cliff's edge, then leapt into the air, flapping its wings hard. Van squealed worriedly, but the bird soared straight out, its wings carrying it with the breeze. A few others quickly joined it, diving and swooping alongside it._

" _Yaaaaay!" Van howled, jumping up and down and pumping his fists in the air. He dove sideways, wrapping his arms around Folken's neck and holding him tightly. Folken smiled, wrapping both arms around his brother. He peered back past Merle, and memory told him Varie should have been standing there. Her image, however, was replaced with that of Eries; smiling gently, her eyes soft as she watched Folken embrace his brother._

" _Thank you, Folken," Van mumbled into Folken's shoulder._

" _You're welcome, Van," he said, feeling tears of contentment well in his eyes._

"Van…"


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Eries felt like she had taken a sledgehammer to the chest as her eyes fell on the stone pathway where he had stood only seconds ago. The pillar of light that took him dissipated in an instant, leaving the hangar feeling as empty and cold as a crypt. Folken's machine stood silent and unmoving beyond the walkway, almost in a mocking manner. As if it was watching its work with proud and condescending eyes.

Eries stumbled to the desk, feeling like her lungs had filled with water. The quill he had no doubt used to write the very letter in her hand lay motionless on the desk before her, and she reached out, feeling the ghost of his hand on it.

She took a forced, shaking breath, feeling herself move in slow motion as she raised the letter, peering down at the Fanelian seal. For a fleeting moment, part of her wished to hurl the letter into the depths of the hangar—if she never read it, then it wasn't real… it wasn't over. They weren't his final words.

But that would be rash, and she would regret it. Swallowing her dread, she pursed her lips as she slid a finger beneath the seal, dragging it the length of it and breaking the wax straight across.

She felt a dizziness come over her, memories flooding her of the last letter she ever received from Marlene. She sank into the desk chair, feeling a creeping numbness, a cold that enveloped her limbs. With trembling hands, she unrolled the scroll.

Even the first words took her very breath from her lungs. _My beloved._ It confirmed everything she had felt, everything she had _known_ … for such a long time now. She gasped back her sobs, chastising herself in her mind. _I can't break down now, or I'll never get through it. And I owe him that._

 _My beloved,_

 _I was a very broken man when I came to Asturia. Years of Dornkirk's brainwashing poisoned my mind, convinced me that I could force the world I wanted. Years of loneliness, twisted with nightmares and guilt made me cold and unkind. Years of pain made me unable to feel anything, emotional or otherwise. To this day, I do not understand what inspired you to approach that monster and take pity on him. You saw my demons, and you stared them down. With every touch, you dulled my pain, with every kiss, you silenced my nightmares. With every word spoken, you tried to take away my guilt. I had almost forgotten what it was to not be in pain. I had forgotten what it was to feel. You resurrected a man I thought no longer existed. And no words in any language known to me will suffice to express my gratitude. I face my fate, perhaps not with a clean conscience, but with humanity._

 _It occurs to me as I sit here, as I put pen to paper, that these will be the last words you receive from me. I must face Dornkirk, I have no choice. I have to repent for my sins, and the only way to do that is to face the man I enacted them for. It tortures me that you won't hear this in person. I had every chance. When I kissed you this morning, when I took your hand- I was very aware that it would most likely be the last time. And I wanted to say these words to you, but I need to be courageous now, and I knew that if I had to look you in the eyes as I broke your heart, I wouldn't be. I've had to do it so many times; leave someone behind who never knew I wouldn't come back. And to be frank, if I could, I would use this machine to make my own paradise, my own ideal future. And I want you to know what that future would have been. Van and I would rebuild Fanelia, free of war, free of dragon slaying. It would truly be a spectacle to behold: my country, prosperous and free of pain and fear. And her alliance with Asturia would carry her into the future— an alliance bonded by you and me. I don't presume to think you would have me as a husband, but I would spend every day of my life attempting to earn you. Because I love you. Madly. Neither of us admitted, and I know why, and I understand. Both of us knew it was a doomed love, and we thought that denying it would make the pain lessen when we lost it. I can tell you with certainty that it has done nothing of the sort. If anything, it haunts me that I never said it. But please know that I knew. I loved you. You loved me. We were trying to protect ourselves, as we've done for so long._

 _Gods, if I could change this, I would in an instant. I would claw that fate alteration engine from Dornkirk's lifeless corpse and use it. Use it to stay. With you. To change fate. But that would make me no better than him, and I couldn't live with myself, becoming him. I will not give him that satisfaction._

 _I've no right to request anything of you; you've already given me everything. But I must. First is this—please watch over Van. He is going to feel very alone, and like me, he doesn't do well alone. He pretends he's fine, puts on a brave face. But he is going to rebuild an entire country, he will be king, and he will do all of this as the last of his entire family. Whether it be as his ally or simply a friend, he will be blessed to have someone as intelligent and grounded as you beside him in that journey._

 _The second request will be much more difficult, but I ask it regardless—please do not weep for me. I cannot stand the thought. I've left so many people behind, knowing, feeling that they were broken by my absence. And it was more painful than any wound, more painful than the jaws of the dragon. Much more. You are the most powerful, graceful, and clever woman I've ever had the privilege of knowing. And stunning to boot. You are strong, my love. You were that way before we met, and you will remain so long after I've gone. A woman like you could conquer all of Gaea, and you wouldn't need to twist it to fit your whims as Dornkirk has. You needn't shed tears for what has left you. Cherish what we had. Gods know I will. Until my last breath. Until birds no longer take flight, until the sun no longer rises._

 _Eternally yours,_

 _Folken Lacour de Fanel_

Breath left her, sensation abandoned her flesh. _Goodbye… this is goodbye._ She peered down at the letter, her trembling hands, the bandage still wrapped around her left. _I'll never kiss him again, never feel the power of his metal fingers clutched in mine. Never._

She exhaled hard, feeling like she would never again breathe in. Like someone had reached into her chest with the liquid metal claw of a guymelef, twisting her heart free of her lungs, ripping it out violently and dooming her to wander the streets of Asturia with a gaping hole in her chest.

The panicked sobs came as she pictured him, so clearly. Just that morning, she held him, and he kissed her. He knew. He knew, and… said nothing. But she couldn't be mad at him. How do you even say goodbye to someone… look them in the eyes, knowing it's the last time? How do you then turn away? Leave it all behind. Be brave.

The numbness in her limbs crawled through her like the waves. Like she was seventeen again, walking into the abyss, no plans to turn back. She let out an anguished cry as her body slumped from the chair, falling in a heap on the cold stone floor. She gasped her breaths, her cheeks cold with the never-ending tears. She curled in on herself, clutching the letter and the feather against her, feeling something akin to his presence in them.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, choking past her sobs and tears. It felt like an eternity. Yet somehow like only minutes.

 _You are strong, my love. You were that way before we met, and you will remain so long after I've gone._

With a shaking breath, she finally sat up, leaning against the desk and making herself take another deep breath. With an unsteady voice, she began to hum his song. She hadn't even realized she knew it, but the Fanelian lullaby it was. Soft and strong, calming her hysteria.

She hummed the entire song, finding that it did for her what it had done for him—hushed her fears and dried her tears. She peered down slowly at the feather in her hand, running a thumb gently along its length. As she did, it began to change before her eyes. The dark ebony tones faded to gray, then gradually to a blinding, pure white. It threatened to break her again, as with a sinking feeling, she knew what it meant.

She pulled it close to her heart, clutching it tightly. She let only a single tear fall as she spoke into the deathly empty hangar.

"Goodbye, my love."


	31. Epilogue

Epilogue

A hush fell over the council as Eries approached the podium. Her father sat to her left, just as confused as the council before her. She hadn't disclosed her plans to him or to anyone else when she had requested a session of council be called. Millerna stood next to him, her eyes worried and strong.

For months, Millerna had been the only one Eries could turn to, the only one who knew. As the tensions between countries slowly died down, so too did Eries' grief. It didn't become less severe, but she found that, with time, she was able to lock it away. Occasionally it reared its ugly head; in the night, when she lie alone in her bed and found herself reaching out for him. But Millerna had been there for her, reminding her that, although it was gone, she had tasted love. Real love. And that was something to be cherished, not mourned. Millerna was a caretaker, through and through. And her compassion made Eries loath the day she forced her sister into an unwanted marriage. Forced her into anything.

"Father, honored councilmen," she began, steadying her voice as it shook slightly. She did not hum the lullaby to herself as she had been doing for months, but she recited it in her mind to calm her nerves. "I thank you for joining me here today."

The council was deathly silent, confusion and doubt rampant on their features.

"In light of my sister's recent marriage annulment..."

A few men began to murmur amongst themselves, a mocking tone to their voices.

Eries found them easily in the crowd, narrowing her eyes and electing not to temper her attitude.

"I will tolerate none of that kind of talk," Eries snapped loudly. "If you wish to engage in idle gossip about my sister, please do so on the schoolyards with the children."

The men straightened, their eyes wide with shock at her scorn. They quieted, bowing their heads in shame and listening quietly.

"In light of my sister's recent marriage annulment," she began anew, anxiously running a hand over her hair which lay braided on one shoulder, his pure white feather dangling over it like jewelry from her ear cuff. To the unknowing eye, it was just an adornment. To those who knew, it was a constant reminder. She found that wearing it calmed her, and as it intermittently grazed her skin, it was like having him beside her, unable to keep his hands off of her, like always.

"It has become painfully obvious that our country has reached a crossroads. With no male heirs, and with my own denial of the crown, my father's burden falls unfairly on Millerna. A burden that I forced upon her. A burden which nearly destroyed her, and the man she was forced to marry. And I…"

She paused, her voice unsteady. She peered down at the podium, at the back of her left hand, which now bore three dark scars from his hand. She breathed deep, imagining his skeletal fingers entwined in hers, aligning with the scars. She felt a wave of strength and calm come over her at the thought, and she took another deep breath, looking back at the council.

"I will never do that to her again," she said with conviction, peering over her shoulder at a, affectionately smiling Millerna.

"Which is why I have come before you today. To request a change in our laws. In our traditions. I have come to reclaim my right to the throne."

A gasp fell over the council, as well as King Aston.

Before the inevitable objections could fly, Eries continued.

"I realize that it is strange for me to have denied my right, only to attempt to reclaim it. I have learned many things since my denial, things which I believe prepare me for this burden. Now, you may be wondering if this means I will rescind my refusal to marry. No. It does not. I still refuse. I understand that this is of great concern for many of you, as it means I will not produce an heir. I would point out that, when the time comes, I will still have a sister. And perhaps, by the time succession is of importance, she will have chosen a man worthy of her. But forcing her, or me for that matter, to marry simply because you are afraid of what the future holds is the kind of backward thinking that got us into that ugly war. And if you are concerned about a woman's ability to rule a country, then I beg you, discuss it with me. I dare you to tell me that my abilities are somehow inferior to yours simply because of what resides between my legs."

The fervor snapped from her lips, causing shock to cross every man's features. She hadn't meant to be crass, but the confidence she felt would not be contained.

She let silence sit for a moment, allowing the men to truly consider her. She would need them to, if they were going to actually consider this.

"I acknowledge that it is unconventional for a member of the royal family to deny the crown, only to reclaim it. I acknowledge that it is unconventional for an unwed woman to rule this country. But we are following on the heels of a Great War, one that cost us..." she paused, swallowing her dread and nervously running her fingers down his feather and into her own hair. "Dearly. It seems to me that conventional problem solving has not done much good for us. We must seek out unconventional means to face the unconventional troubles that plague this great country. My father will attest to my expansive knowledge of our nation's industry and capital, and Commander Wylkes can attest to my extensive experience in military strategy. I offer my experience as qualifications.

"I realize that this kind of change is drastic, which is why, as soon as I have finished speaking, I am going to call for a recess. Mull it over, consider, truly consider. You too, father," she said, turning to face a very exasperated King Aston. "I of course will value and heed your input on this matter. I beg you, consider it. I am able and willing to succeed you, and offer my life in service to this great nation. If my gender disqualifies me, I want to know why."

She turned back to face the council. "We will meet again tomorrow, and I will hear your well-reasoned arguments, both for and against. Do not feel obligated to preen my emotions simply because I am a woman. If you have strong reasons why I should not take the throne, I want to hear them. And I expect that my gender alone will not be your sole argument against it. If you can concoct no other reasons, then I should think our path forward is fairly clear. Thank you."

Before anyone could speak, she turned from the podium, walking with unbent determination from the council chambers. She felt a giddiness within her as she suddenly felt worthy of his words. _You are strong, my love._

Without breaking stride, she found herself standing once again in the Asturian waves, watching as the sun slowly slipped beyond the horizon. The Mystic Moon was barely visible as it rose opposite the waning sunlight. Somewhere out there, Hitomi was home—safe and happy. Somewhere beyond the waters at her feet, a new Fanelia was rising. Somewhere past the plains, past the graves and grief, Allen Schezar was rebuilding his family. And perhaps with a stroke of luck, in a castle not far from here, Asturia would soon see its first Queen.

Gaea was at peace. Despite the pain, the suffering, the nightmares along the way… Folken achieved the future he wanted. Eries would never accept the price he paid for it, but in time, she knew she would learn to make her peace with it.

She breathed in the ocean air, smelling his scent in the breeze, feeling his touch as it brushed his feather against her neck. And as the last remnants of sunlight glided past the ocean's vast horizon, a green flare flashed brilliantly along its length, illuminating against the water for only a blinking moment.

 _I shall have to avoid blinking, then._

Eries smiled, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. "Hello, love," she whispered, watching as the green flash disappeared, leaving nothing but the great Asturian skyline and a reflection of the rising Mystic Moon.


End file.
